


Intemptesta Nox

by Alexis_Black



Series: Child of the Hunt Series [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: HPFT, Dark, Gen, Horror, Inferi, Marauders' Era, Prophecy, Unspeakables
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 20:11:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6485851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexis_Black/pseuds/Alexis_Black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aislinn knew when she was recruited as an Unspeakable that her job would be dangerous. Returning to Hogwarts as a student was a task she hadn’t expected. Facing death as it stalked the blood-splattered halls would be a nightmare she might never recover from.</p><p> </p><p>Second Place in TreacleTart's Psychological Horror Challenge at HPFF.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Cracked Mirror

 

  
  


 

_“The world is the mirror of myself dying.”_  
_~ Henry Miller_

 

**May 1975**

 

The face of a dead woman peered out of the cracked mirror. It was a face I knew intimately. I recognized the filthy brown hair that partially covered the dull and lifeless eyes. Those eyes had once been filled with life and laughter, but now shadows lurked behind them. In the flickering light of the candle near my elbow, those ghastly eyes tracked my movements relentlessly.

The dead woman wore the face of my beloved twin sister, Caitlin. I blinked and the woman in the mirror did the same. My eyes dropped to the bottle I held in my hand. It was identical to the one that Caitlin held in the mirror.

_No, not Caitlin. Me._ It was my reflection in the mirror. Caitlin was dead, had been for close to a year now. I was seated at the dusty vanity stand in our old childhood bedroom. Night had fallen and the only light was from the flickering candle.

_How long have I been sitting here, staring at my reflection, lost in the past? What am I supposed to be doing? It’s important._

Absently I rubbed the twin scars on the inside of my right wrist. Then I remembered. I was storing away my memories, the visions of horror I had survived. A grim smile distorted my face. I picked up my wand and touched it to my temple. As I withdrew the wand, the lucent substance of my memory came away like an obscenely swollen strand of spider’s web. I dropped it into the bottle and capped it. Then I pulled out another bottle and repeated the procedure until three bottles were lined up on the vanity stand.

Strange such dark and unbearable memories should glow so beautifully. _They look so innocent, radiant._ In my mind’s eye, I saw them for how they truly were: filled with a murky, viscous liquid like stagnant blood. Corruption etched the glass in arcane patterns and cracked the exteriors with the vileness each contained. Their luminescent façade was nothing more than a lie.

_Everything’s a lie._

I abandoned that thought. I was almost finished with my work. All I had left to do was write Dumbledore a note and send my memories to him. There might be need for them one day. No one else knew about those repulsive recollections or the prophecy concealed within. The image of a boy with a hooked nose and greasy hair flashed through my mind. In his arms he cradled the mauled body of Lily Evans as he frantically sang an incantation over her.

_Had his piercing black eyes seen the darkness lurking in mine?_

My eyes flicked up once more to the cracked mirror and my reflection. A small movement in the mirror caught my attention. I leaned towards the aged glass to watch the reflection of a bead of black liquid as it trickled slowly down the wall behind me. It gleamed in the candlelight, dark and wet against the timeworn flowery wallpaper.

I gasped and a tremor racked my body. It couldn’t be. The stench of death and burnt cooper wafted from behind me, clung to the back of my throat. Blood. The wall was bleeding. In the mirror, another bead welled up and then another. Each tracked its way silently down the wall.

As I watched the curled edge of a section of wallpaper sagged. The corner leaned drunkenly forward, and then sloughed off like rotting skin with a wet, ripping sound. Beneath was a mass of quivering musculature that glistened red in the candlelight. The shadows in the corner of the room writhed spastically in time with what lay beneath the wallpaper and the sound of moaning reached my ears. My heart raced.

I spun around swiftly with my wand in hand and found … nothing. There was no blood on the wall, no pulsing flesh concealed within. There were only cobwebs and tired wallpaper that was curling at the edges. Nothing hid in the shadows in the corner. A strangled cry died in my throat. I covered my face with my hands.

_It’s all in my mind._

Hysterical laughter bubbled up before I could smother it. Of course it was all in my mind. The death and horror that had stalked Hogwarts and killed a multitude of students had never happened. I had successfully completed my assignment and protected the student body. But no one had protected me. They gave me the Order of Merlin First Class and patted me on the back for courageously performing my job as an Unspeakable. Then they sent me home to rest and recuperate, so that I might return to take up my new position as the Keeper’s Assistant.

They didn’t understand that the horror still lived in me. It came alive each time I closed my eyes and ate away at my soul. Its insidiousness was more unspeakable than the position I held in the Ministry. Some wounds would never truly heal. Mine continued to bleed where eyes could not see and no Healer could touch.

When I finally got ahold of myself, I noticed that the room was somehow brighter. The single candle still burned, its wax pooling on the desk, but it did not produce the lovely emerald shade that now discolored walls. I glanced across the room at the window with its sagging lace curtain. The light was coming from outside.

Another tremor coursed through my body, although whether from fear or relief I could not say. I took a hesitant step towards the window. My foot bumped into a half-eaten plate of food on the floor. How long it had lain there? Flies busily crawled over it.

From the mirror I heard the tinkling of laughter. I whirled about to find my sister staring out at me and froze. Caitlin coyly covered her bloodstained mouth with a hand covered in rotted flesh. Her dirt-crusted nails were ragged and torn. As I watched, the skin on the back of her hand bulged, vulgarly pulsating before finally erupting to give birth to a carrion beetle. It skittered up the trail of darkness that had spilled down one cheek from an empty eye socket like fetid tears. Her other eye lolled about in its socket. Tucked behind Caitlin’s ear was a single black lily; its lush petals gleamed in the reflected candlelight.

“He’s come for you, Aislinn,” she giggled. “Soon you’ll be with me.”

I blinked and Caitlin was gone. The only image in the cracked mirror was my own. My face was colorless above the soiled robes I wore. I shook my head in alarm.

Then I felt something I hadn’t felt in a year, a creeping sensation in that secret place of my mind. It was where, as children, Caitlin and I would speak without words as only twins could. There we had shared our thoughts, innermost feelings and each other’s pain. When Caitlin died, I had felt it. A severing so deep and abrupt could only have been wrought by death.

I expected the door to that secret place to have been sealed by Caitlin’s death. Now I felt something brush against it in my mind, skittering unseen, and it terrified me.

I swiftly moved back to the vanity stand and grabbed the memory-filled bottles. I stuffed them into a battered leather pouch that, like me, had seen better days. From a pocket I pulled out my Order of Merlin medal. There was no time to write a note to Dumbledore. The medal with my name engraved on the back would have to suffice.

A wave of my wand and the pouch vanished. I left my bedroom with its girlish frills and faded lace, all hidden under a thick layer of dust and neglect. Down the hall with its happy pictures of days long past and through the parlor I went. At last I came upon the front door. The rusty hinges screeched in protest when I pulled the door open.

Death no longer stalked the bloodstained walls of Hogwarts as prophesized a century ago. It patiently awaited me outside. With the voice of the wind that rustled through the trees in the nearby cemetery, it tempted me with whispered promises of release from my nightmarish existence.  
 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter opening quote is from "Black Spring", written by Henry Miller, published by the Obelisk Press in Paris, France, 1936.
> 
> Written to the haunting sounds of "The Thing", The Essential John Carpenter Film Music Collection, performed by The City of Prague Philharmonic.
> 
> Thanks to M_C_Crocker for the looking over this first chapter.
> 
> Story banner by Fireheart @ TDA


	2. The Assignment

_“Death borders upon our birth, and our cradle stands in the grave. Our birth is nothing but our death begun.”  
~ Bishop Joseph Hall_

 

**August 1974**

 

I entered the massive doors to the Entrance Hall of Hogwarts. It had been seven years since I last walked these hallowed halls of learning. Back then I had been a student Sorted into Ravenclaw, as had my sister, Caitlin. Now I worked for the Ministry of Magic as an Unspeakable. 

Not much had changed since we had attended Hogwarts. The hourglasses were waiting in anticipation for the new academic year to begin. When the school year started in almost a month, I would be returning as a fifth-year student.

It was an unusual assignment, even for an Unspeakable, but then the situation was not exactly normal. Two appalling prophecies were recently linked together. Both pointed to a horrific event at Hogwarts that would result in mass deaths among the student body. One of the prophecies had been spoken over a hundred years ago; knowledge of it had been given to every Headmaster since that time. Caitlin had voiced the second prophecy, linking it to the previous.

The Board of Governors had initially been reluctant to grant permission for a Ministry agent to placed in the school. Once they were briefed of certain aspects in the prophecies, as provided in a letter written by the Keeper of the Hall of the Hall of Prophecy, they changed their opinion. Phrases such as “and death stalked the halls and struck down all that were found” and “corridors ran with the blood of students” had been sufficiently compelling. The prophecies agreed on one point: no instructor would be able to avert the disaster. It was no wonder the Governing Board had consented so readily afterwards, even though they had been denied access to the full transcript of the prophecies. No one outside of the Keeper and myself had that knowledge.

Explicit details as to whom the Ministry was sending in and the specific measures taken were reserved only for Headmaster Dumbledore. The restrictions had been placed by the Keeper herself. Unspeakables operated in secrecy as a rule, and prophecies required delicate handling. Dumbledore would be the only person who knew the truth; even the Deputy Headmistress would be kept in the dark.

One of the main reasons for Dumbledore’s inclusion was the dark artifact I would be subjecting myself to. Crafted by Grindelwald himself, the Manacle was a thoroughly nasty bit of work. It had the appearance of a delicate torque-shaped silver bracelet, adorned with a large maroon gem. Placed upon a wrist, that innocent dull stone could devour the very essence of an unwitting person, capturing their thoughts, memories and even the semblance of their body, while instantaneously severing the bond between body and soul. All that was left of the victim was a desiccated husk.

Once the Manacle was filled, its stone would light from within as if containing eternal shifting flames. If so inclined, a dark wizard or witch could then access the imprisoned essence and even take on victim’s form by wearing the bracelet. That the perverse magic would work only once before needing to claim a fresh victim was considered by some to be a twisted blessing. 

When Dumbledore had defeated Grindelwald back in 1945, the Manacle had been lost. Many hoped it had been destroyed. It had turned up barely a month ago. A young witch by the name of Charlotte Banks, a rising fifth-year Gryffindor, had discovered it in the ruins of Westwood, an old Muggle abbey. Unfortunately, Charlotte could not have guessed that by innocently placing the Manacle on her wrist she would enact its powers. Now her essence was locked within the stone.

The Ministry had hushed up the incident. Only a handful of people knew of the Manacle’s re-emergence or Charlotte’s demise. Investigations into the ruins and the nearby area were still underway to ensure no other relics turned up. I doubted Dumbledore would be pleased that the essence of one of his own students would be returning to Hogwarts trapped in one of Grindelwald’s playthings. 

As I took the first step up the marble staircase, I paused to speculate where the entrance to Dumbledore’s office might now be located. It had a habit of changing locations, as did everything in Hogwarts. In my seventh year the entrance had been on the second floor. Fortunately for me a voice rang out.

“Miss Walker. Welcome back to Hogwarts.”

I turned to find Headmaster Dumbledore approaching from the Great Hall. He looked as he ever had, dressed in dark blue robes. The afternoon light streaming in from the windows briefly made a halo of his silver hair. It was his eyes, though, that seemed a little different. There was sadness in them behind those half-moon glasses. I had seen it reflected in the eyes of many since Caitlin’s recent death.

“Good afternoon, Headmaster. I realized I didn’t quite know where your office was this year.”

Dumbledore took my hands in his. “I have only just heard about your sister this morning. It is true then, has Caitlin passed through the veil?”

I nodded. “Yes, sir. The Death Eaters – they –” The words got stuck in my throat, unable to pass around the lump that suddenly formed there. Emotions threatened to overcome me. This was neither the time nor place for such an outburst. I shoved the feelings of loss back into a room in my mind and bolted the door. 

In a more composed voice, I continued. “The Dark Mark appeared over her house last week. Although the agents who answered the call were unable to find her remains, there was little doubt of the outcome.” It was easier to speak this way, to couch the loss in professional terms. 

The agents I spoke of had been friends and co-workers. They had told me there had been no body other than the agent who had been charged with protecting her. Caitlin’s room had been undisturbed except for a single broken vase. Dying black lilies had lain among the shattered glass in the otherwise perfectly kept safe-house. The incongruity spoke volumes.

There was no doubt in my mind what had happened. I had witnessed it, in a sense. Caitlin had been my twin sister and since birth we had shared a unique bond. When she passed through the veil, that bond had been torn asunder.

“-my deepest condolences.” Dumbledore was patting my hand gently. I nodded distractedly at him. How many times had I heard those words this week? The hollow sounds were a worthless balm to my wounded soul, but perhaps voicing them gave comfort to the speaker.

“Shall we continue in your office, Headmaster?”

Dumbledore released my hands, understanding clearly written on his face. As we walked to his office, located on the fifth floor this year, I recalled to him one of my sister’s favorite memories of Hogwarts. At the conclusion of the Year End Feast, all the departing seventh-years had tossed their plain black student hats into the air. Then we had dashed down to the loch for the traditional celebratory swim. That was when one of the Slytherin boys had stolen her wand and robes. Caitlin had ended up having to scurry back into the school dressed in naught but her wet undergarments.

“Caitlin very much loved Hogwarts, sir. She always recalled it with great fondness.” I took my seat across from his desk. Not much had changed in his office, either. There was the Sorting Hat behind his desk and the phoenix, Fawkes. The only difference I noted was the absence of the former headmasters and headmistresses from their portraits. The empty picture frames seemed forlorn somehow.

“And you, Miss Walker? Do the memories of your time at Hogwarts hold a place in your heart?”

“Of course, Headmaster. It’s just that, well…” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and allowed my eyes to wander first to Fawkes and then to a silvery object on a nearby table. In it I could see the distorted reflection of my pale face and wavy brown hair. “Even though she had a secure position working for the Ministry, Caitlin wanted to come back here and be a professor, perhaps in Divination. It had been her dream since we were students. Caitlin knew she would have to gain experience before approaching you, though.”

My revelation did not seem to surprise Dumbledore. He quietly nodded his head in agreement. Perhaps Caitlin had mentioned her aspirations to him at some point. That or Professor Flitwick had relayed the information; Caitlin would have spoken of it to our Head of House during our fifth-year career interviews.

“I, on the other hand, couldn’t wait to leave Hogwarts and work as an Auror,” I quietly admitted.

“But you are not an Auror, are you?” He stroked his beard thoughtfully. Those piercing blue eyes never left me. I was briefly reminded of being caught in a prank as a seventh-year and then having to face Dumbledore.

“I was going to be. After a year of training, however, I was recruited as an Unspeakable. My particular gift seemed better suited to their needs than of an Auror. I work mostly in the Time Room.”

It was this gift that allowed me to save Caitlin from the Death Eaters the first time. Its limitations were also what kept me from saving her the final time.

“Caitlin and I share –” I stopped, pressing my lips together before correcting myself. “We _shared_ an affinity for time. As a Seer, her vision had touched times yet to come. For me, it’s the past. I am, for lack of a better term, a sort of living Time Turner,” I revealed to Dumbledore quietly. I had never told anyone at Hogwarts about my gift, although I had experienced it first here. “I call it Shifting. I can slip back in time without the assistance of any magical device, and without having more than one instance of myself present at any moment.” 

This represented perhaps the most significant advantage over using a Time Turner. Unlike with that device, there was no way for me to cross paths with a different version of myself when I used my gift. When I Shifted, it was as if I slipped directly into my body wherever it was in the past. There were two limitations to my gift, though. The first was negligible: I could not take another person with me when I Shifted. The second imperfection was one I had only recently learned to despise.

“My range is an hour, two at the most. This affinity is one of the reason the Keeper requested me for this assignment.”

I refrained from tell Dumbledore the other reason the Keeper had assigned me specifically and not an experienced Auror equipped with a Time Turner. The prophecies spoke of time being rewound three times and an hourglass shattering. The symbolism was clear. In the Ministry’s history shattering occurred only when a Time Turner was used in close proximity to the Veil. The barrier between the land of the living and the realm of the dead produced a unique resonance that reacted in a dangerous and volatile manner when exposed to a Time Turner’s magic. It was the reason for their prohibition in the Death Chamber. 

My ability to Shift was not subject to that resonance. What the Veil, housed in the Death Chamber within the Ministry, had to do with prophesized events in Hogwarts was a mystery, and one that I was charged with unraveling.

“Ah, yes, your assignment,” Dumbledore began. “I confess I have misgivings concerning that task. Not in your ability, as fascinating as it sounds. Quite simply there are matters that should be carefully considered. The first is that it does not do to put blind faith in a prophecy. By their very nature, prophecies are not incontrovertible.” 

His voice was mild, but his words disturbed me. I had anticipated Dumbledore would not be pleased with the Manacle’s usage. It had not crossed my mind that the prophecies would be a point of disagreement. My understanding was that the Keeper had already convinced him.

“In one prophecy, perhaps sir, but there are two prophecies in question, one dating back over a hundred years. They’re linked and both point to a horrible event that will occur at Hogwarts. Headmaster, the ones who voiced these prophecies were known for their ability.”

“I am aware of that.” He placed the tips of his fingers together in a steeple just below his bearded chin. “However, prophecies can be dangerous things, Miss Walker. By believing in and acting on a prophecy, one can set into motion the very chain of events that will culminate in the prediction coming true.”

I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms. “But what if those events have already been set in motion, sir? The Seer Delphia stated, ‘the one who can shift through the sands of time and carries its mark.’ That was decades prior to even my parents’ births.” 

I turned my head and moved my hair to show Dumbledore the tiny birthmark just behind my left ear. It was in the shape of an hourglass. “For all we know, the chain of events may already have started.”

“Indeed, it may have,” he conceded reluctantly, “especially in light of Charlotte Banks’ death. ‘Salvation wears the face of the dead’. I understand Caitlin voiced that prophecy. However, by authorizing the use of the Manacle, the Ministry places us all on a slippery slope. The ends can never truly justify the means.”

 _‘The face of the dead.’_ I remembered those words spilling out of my mouth as Caitlin literally spoke through me. They had stolen her away in the dead of night. Three days had passed before I had been aware of her danger. I couldn’t Shift back in time far enough to save her; not even a Hit Wizard equipped with a Time Turner could have saved her at that point. All I could do was be her mouthpiece in those final moments. Caitlin had linked the prophecies together and identified me as the one to prevent the events from happening.

I leaned forward and stretched to touch Dumbledore’s hands. “In the moment prior to the Veil separating us, Caitlin begged me to save them, sir. Those were her last words, ‘Save them, Ash. Save the students.’” 

I could not stop the tears that suddenly welled up and trickled down my cheeks. “Sir, I promised her. I gave Caitlin my word. I’m sorry about Charlotte. What happened to her was a terrible accident, one that never should have taken place. But I can’t turn away even if it means using the artifact that stole Charlotte’s life and severed her soul.”

Dumbledore seemed to deflate and his gaze turned inward. “You are right.” He patted my hands gently before continuing. “Charlotte’s demise never should have happened. That was perhaps my fault. I could have prevented it.” His shoulders sagged as if he carried a heavy burden and he sat back. “I knew Grindelwald had a propensity for concealing objects of power such as the Manacle in unlikely ruins. I should never have stopped the search for his artifacts.”

His blue eyes lost their introspective aspect as examined me closely. It felt as if he could see straight through me. 

“So be it, Aislinn Walker. I will not prevent you from keeping your word to your sister. Let us pray that the prophecies were erroneous.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Opening chapter quote from Epistles, Decade III, Epistle 2, by Bishop Joseph Hall, written sometime prior to his death in 1656.
> 
> Written to the music of:  
> “Alessa’s Harmony”, Silent Hell, from the Silent Hill motion picture, by Stanton Shows
> 
> "The Thing", The Essential John Carpenter Film Music Collection, performed by The City of Prague Philharmonic.


	3. Shadows Gather

_“Life itself is but the shadow of death, and souls departed but the shadows of the living.”  
~Thomas Browne, Sr._

 

The underside of my wrist ached. The dull pain had been with me constantly for the last seven months. The moment I had placed the Manacle on my wrist, the ends of the torque bracelet had bitten deeply, as though they were fangs of a snake. Charlotte’s memories had flooded my mind in that instant like a sickening tide while my body had swelled, skin stretched and bones shifted until I became her twin. Even after all the time that had since past, the skin around the wounds on my wrist had never healed properly. The edges were puckered and raw; pus oozed out intermittently.

I stared at flawless skin where the twin wounds should have been. They were hidden by the Manacle’s enchantment unless I touched the stone; only then could I see the reality that was otherwise concealed. No one else, though, could pierce the truth that lay veiled behind the duplicitous magic. All they saw was Charlotte Banks with her limp, strawberry-blonde hair. Charlotte, who would be fetching were it not for the horrible acne, overly generous figure and clumsiness. The true wallflower of Gryffindor, a girl that specialized in mucking about with plants.

I had come to hate being Charlotte Banks. How could such a timid girl have been Sorted with the Gryffindors? I knew the answer, though, thanks to the Manacle. Although Charlotte had been shy when dealing directly with people her age or older, she had a streak of bravery. She had saved several Muggle children from a Devil’s Snare plant. It had somehow grown to immense proportions in a derelict schoolyard.

What disturbed me the most about being Charlotte, though, was that her memories had begun to crowd my own in the confines of my mind. After the initial flood, it had been easy to sort them out; over time, though, her recollections had started to bleed into mine. It was not known how long a person could use the Manacle or whether there would be lingering adverse affects. I could only hope that once my assignment was complete, that the removal of the Manacle would result in the elimination of her memories and the return of my own body’s shape. Grindelwald had not been the sort to document his devices extensively, nor had he later been forthcoming about the items of power he had created.

“Miss Banks?”

Yanked out of my thoughts, I jumped in my seat. Professor Slughorn wore an expression of mild amusement. In front of me my cauldron was belching green smoke in alarming amounts. My lab partner, Sirius Black, had balanced his chair on its back legs and was waving a hand in front of his face in an attempt to ward off the foul smoke. A mixture of annoyance and disgust twisted his refined features.

“I said, Miss Banks, I should feel sorry for anyone depending on your cure. That antidote looks more dangerous than the poison,” Slughorn genially remarked before turning to his prized pupils. Lily Evans and Severus Snape were seated together at the next table.

The normal seating arrangements had been altered when the Marauders had become quite boisterous at the start of class. After several interruptions, Slughorn had dispersed the group, partnering each with unlikely students. By some brilliant stroke of luck I was placed with Sirius Black. The rearrangements had also allowed Slughorn to place his two favorite students together: Severus Snape and Lily Evans.

“Now,” Slughorn began with a smile, “what have you got for me, Miss Evans?”

“Why bother when you can simply shove a bezoar down their throats and have done with it?” I muttered angrily. Without a second thought, I silently vanished my attempt at a cure and then slammed my book shut. I was tired of the charade, of having to act like a cack-handed, timid student.

Slughorn stopped in his tracks and turned back to stare in shock. Next to me Black’s chair slammed down on all four legs and Lily peered at me from around Slughorn. Her mouth opened in surprise, forming a perfect “O” that quickly transformed into a smile.

“A bezoar?” Slughorn threw back his head with a booming laugh. “Indeed, Miss Banks, a bezoar would certainly work on the poisons we are experimenting on here. What cheek!”

_What bloody cheek, indeed,_ I reprimanded myself privately. Charlotte Banks would never have talked back to her teacher. She was a shy, withdrawn girl who very rarely spoke in class at all. It was uncharacteristic for Charlotte to abruptly start mouthing off, and even more so for her to unexpectedly spout off an Auror trick such as treating poisons with a bezoar.

I forced myself not to wince and gave Slughorn a hesitant smile before casting my eyes down into my lap. “I-I’m sorry, Professor.”

Hopefully my apology would let my aberrant behavior slip unnoticed. Otherwise I would have to Shift back and correct the problem. It wouldn’t be the first time I had to use my gift to adjust a situation since becoming a student again. Just this morning I had absentmindedly entered the Ravenclaw common room after breakfast. A habit of seven years was hard to break, even if I had been impersonating a Gryffindor for months on end. The low-grade headache from this morning’s Shift had already begun to gnaw at my temples.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Snape staring at me, his lip curled in distaste. Ignoring Slughorn, who was going on about bezoars, I made a mental note when Snape turned his large nose back to his book and scribbled away furiously.

If there was anyone I suspected of having a role in the prophecies, it was Severus Snape. The foul-tempered, greasy-haired git knew more curses than the entire class of seventh-year students put together. Plus, he was a Slytherin. I could not imagine any other House producing a more likely candidate. When class was dismissed, I intended on slipping away to follow Snape.

My plan was promptly derailed by Black, who caught me by the arm as I exited the classroom. “Hey, Banks, sharp answer back there. Can’t recall you ever speaking up in class before.” He glanced just over my shoulder.

Ignoring his statement, I shot a look behind me. The Marauders were famous for their pranks. While they usually singled out Slytherins as their favorite target, they were not above pulling stunts on others, including those in their House. Charlotte had presented far too tempting a mark before.

Behind me James Potter and Remus Lupin were whispering to Peter Pettigrew. Potter hooked an arm around Pettigrew’s shoulders and yanked him forward. Pettigrew, for his part, was torn between shooting pleading looks between the pair and then gawping at me in an alarming fashion.

_Bollocks! Here they go again._ The signs were clearly visible. I pulled my arm from Black’s grasp with the intent of preparing to Shift back an hour when Pettigrew stumbled into me. We fell into a heap at Black’s feet and my head smacked sharply against the stone floor. With a bark of laughter, Sirius jump back a few paces.

“Oh, Charlotte! S-so sorry!” Pettigrew stuttered, trying to scramble off of me. The strap of my satchel had become tangled around his arm and his elbow jabbed painfully into my stomach. Books and parchments spilled out on the floor. He finally extracted his arm and rolled noisily off.

Laughter rang in the halls above our heads. Pettigrew’s round face was flushed beneath his mousy hair. He climbed to his feet and hesitantly offered his hand to me. I frowned, but took his hand anyway. It was unpleasantly clammy. As soon as I had gained my feet, I withdrew my hand. Striking the floor with my head had pushed it past gnawing to an outright throbbing pain.

“Ask her!” Potter hissed.

“Uh, Charlotte,” Pettigrew begin hesitantly in a squeaky voice, “will you, um, Hogsmeade this weekend? With me?”

Black doubled over with laughter while Potter slapped him on the back. Even Lupin had a grin plastered on his face. I stood there trying to piece together what Pettigrew was babbling about and gave up.

“Will I what?” I inquired as I massaged my temple.

Pettigrew cleared his throat and abruptly began speaking rapidly. “Will you be going to Hogsmeade this weekend? Maybe we could meet at Miss - er, Madam Puddifoot’s?” He bit his lower lip and clutched his hands.

It took me a moment to realize what Peter Pettigrew was attempting to say.

_Dear Merlin, he’s asking me out on a date!_ I had been sent here to save the students, not date them. This was the last thing I wanted to deal with. However, what I wanted was not important. The real question was, what would Charlotte have wanted?

I didn’t have to search her memories; the answer was simple. Charlotte would have been thrilled to have been noticed by a boy, any boy, and immediately agreed.

My head pounded mercilessly; black specks floated at the periphery of my vision. This was no simple headache; it was the precursor of a migraine. I could not Shift back, not with my head in this condition. Shifting required both intense concentration and focused desire. I could achieve neither at the moment. There was no escape. With an internal sigh I did the only thing left at my disposal.

“Yes, Peter. I’d love that,” I mumbled. Pettigrew’s face lit up like a little boy’s at Christmas. He jabbered something about meeting at Madam Puddifoot’s at two in the afternoon. I nodded and walked away as soon as I could.

By the time I made my escape, Snape had long since disappeared. Aside from the Marauders busy congratulating Pettigrew, the hall was empty. I groused privately. Perhaps I could run over to Hospital Wing and wrangle a migraine remedy from Madam Pomfrey. Once it took effect, I could Shift and fix the incident in Potions and avoid Pettigrew altogether.

Rounding the corner, I nearly bumped into Lily Evans. She had a lovely smile that turned the boys’ heads, and a few girls’, effortlessly. Beauty and brains wrapped up with a Prefect badge, that was Evans personified.

“Charlotte,” she greeted me as she fell into step. “That was very kind of you.”

I glanced over at Evans. We were in several classes together and shared the same House, but Evans had never made a point of walking with me before. I let her guide our path away from the Hospital Wing, and my remedy, in true Charlotte fashion.

“What - what do you mean?” I forced my voice to be low and tentative.

“Agreeing to meet with Pettigrew. I could tell that perhaps you didn’t initially want to, not after his bungling attempt.”

I made the mistake of meeting her startling green eyes. They had a piercing quality that reminded me of Caitlin. A person could get lost in those eyes. I dropped my gaze quickly.

“Well, Peter seems nice and all. And it wasn’t his fault for tripping.”

“Peter is nice. He can be quite sweet for a Marauder. So can Remus, for that matter.”

“Unlike Potter?” It was well known that James Potter was thoroughly besotted with Lily Evans. His idea of paying her attention often included pranks. It was a wonder she hadn’t hexed him yet.

“Don’t mention Potter to me. That arrogant berk!” she huffed, tossing back her auburn hair carelessly. “He informed me this morning that he likes Fizzing Whizbees and Chocolate Frogs best - in case I wanted to buy him anything over the Hogsmeade weekend. Can you believe it?”

Perhaps being one of the prettiest and smartest witches had its share of problems. I reminded myself that those problems probably didn’t include saving the student body.

“Oh, and bezoars. That was a very clever answer. I would never have thought of it,” she confided in me, switching subjects abruptly. “You should speak up more often in class. You are smarter and more open minded than most people realize.”

I nodded, privately pleased at her compliment.

“Which brings me to what I really wanted to talk to you about. Several of us from different Houses get together for a study group once or twice a week since the O.W.L.s are just around the corner. We each have a specialty. I was thinking since you’re the best at Herbology, perhaps you’d care to join us?”

The unexpected offer threw me off. A study group?

Taking my silence as thoughtfulness, Evans continued. “Dirk Cresswell handles Charms; he’s in Hufflepuff. Then there’s Deidre White. She’s excellent at Divinations as well as Ancient Runes, although Tobias Traverner technically handles that subject in our group. Severus is our Defence specialist-”

“Snape?” My mind swiftly slipped gears out of mousy Charlotte-mode and into that of an Unspeakable.

“I know. Sev can come off as well, prickly, but still he’s an ace at Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

Whether he was an ace or not, I was very interested in Severus Snape. Regrettably, it seemed that Shifting would be out of the question. I had a hunch Evans would not offer me a place in the study group if I undid my bezoar comment or failed to show an open mind with Pettigrew. It looked like this Saturday I would have to suffer spending time alone in the tea shop with Peter. That the full moon should fall on that day made the lunacy of it all the more ironic.

Once I agreed, Evans informed me who comprised the rest of the small group. They were planning to meet in an unused classroom later that evening.

“I have a feeling Deidre won’t make it tonight, though.” When I looked at her questioningly, Evans answered in a hushed voice. “Didn’t you hear? She’s had a death in her family. Deidre only found out last week.”

I found out later from the whispers in the Great Hall over lunch that the Dark Mark had appeared over the White family residence. No one had been spared, not even her five-year-old brother. Although I didn’t know Deidre well, she was in my former House of Ravenclaw. My heart ached for her. I understood intimately the nightmarish experience she was going through.

More importantly, her name lingered in my mind. I let it sit there on a mental backburner as I begged Madam Pomfrey for a migraine remedy. All through afternoon classes and the slowly lifting fog of my headache, I found myself turning Deidre’s name and the fact she had a five year-old brother over and over as though they were pieces of some unknown puzzle. Just before dinner rolled around, my head cleared enough to properly sort through my memories and I figured it out. The possible implications had me discretely making my way to the Headmaster’s office as fast as possible; if I were lucky, I would catch him before he made his way down to the Great Hall.

It had been arranged at the beginning of the year that Dumbledore would give me the password to his office in the event I needed to pass information to him. I hadn’t had the occasion to do so yet and neither would I now. Instead, I would be the one seeking information. Dumbledore did not seem surprised to see me enter his office. The enchantment on the stone gargoyle was probably such that it alerted him when the password was used. He was seated at his desk knitting socks, of all things. I dropped the timid Charlotte act and spoke directly, foregoing social customs of greetings or making small talk.

“I heard that Dark Mark appeared above house of Deidre White’s family. Is that correct?”

“Good afternoon, Charlotte. Or perhaps I should call you Aislinn?”

I waved away his question. It didn’t matter how Dumbledore addressed me in private. What I needed were answers and I informed him of such in as polite a business manner that I could muster.

“Unfortunately, yes, what you have heard is correct.” He put down his knitting on his desk. “I understand why this might upset you.”

I leaned against the back of one of the chairs situated in front of his large claw-foot desk. “It’s not that,” I quickly assured him. “Can you tell me the name of Deidre’s mother? Was it Vivian?”

His piercing eyes seemed to find the lie that I had tried to pass by him. It was true that I was upset, no matter how composed I attempted to appear.

“Yes, but I fail to see how this might relate to your assignment. I understand that Vivian White was a legal secretary in the Central Department of the Ministry.”

I decided to break a policy that all Unspeakables were sworn to uphold. “Actually, that was her cover,” I revealed. “Vivian White was an Unspeakable assigned to the Management of Dark Artifacts Division within the Department of Mysteries.”

The thought of Vivian White and the last time I met her set me to pacing in front of Dumbledore’s desk. With my work in the Time Room, I had had the occasion to interact with her only once or twice previously. That was why I hadn’t immediately connected her to Deidre White. It was only the fact that I had heard Vivian had two children, a daughter at Hogwarts and a younger son, that connected the dots for me.

I halted and faced Dumbledore. “The last time I met with Vivian White was after the discovery of Charlotte and the Manacle at Westwood. She was assigned to investigate how it came to be there and whether any other artifacts were in the vicinity.” Spreading my hands on his desk, I leaned forward. “Her death was not a random act. He has learned the Manacle was re-discovered.”

There was no need for me to name whom I was referring to. It was clear from the look in Dumbledore’s eyes that he felt the same. With a device like the Manacle, a person could infiltrate the Ministry at the highest levels and no one would be the wiser. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Name would have been drawn to the Manacle the moment he heard whispers of it, like a carrion bird to a rotting Inferi.

“And yet your superiors have not contacted you.”

For a moment I froze with my breath caught in my throat. _Wasn’t I supposed to be contacted once a month?_ It took a few seconds to shove Charlotte’s memories to the side and realize that I had completely forgotten about the scheduled letter I regularly received from my ‘Uncle Philbert’; that was the code name given my contact in the Department of Mysteries. Furthermore, the monthly letter should have arrived several days ago. That could mean only one of two things.

“Either the Ministry has faith that the defenses surrounding Hogwarts are up to the task of keeping this damned trinket safe from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named,” I said with a grim smile, “or my contact in the department has been compromised.”

“For all our sakes, Aislinn, let us hope it is the former.”  
 

~ ~ * ~ ~

   
As I half expected, my appearance at the study group meeting just after dinner came as a bit of a surprise. With Charlotte’s memories and my own experiences post-Hogwarts, I had no problem establishing my superior grasp of Herbology. It was her love of rare plants and innate curiosity that had lead to Charlotte’s downfall. She had been investigating unusual plants in Westwood Abbey when she came across the Manacle.

During the study group meeting, I managed to discretely plant a tracer charm on Snape’s robes. It would allow me to track his movements for a period of time. Once that window of time was up or if he discarded his robes, the charm would cease to work. I was confident Snape would not find the tracer charm. It was an advanced spell that Aurors oft times used to pursue dark wizards.

After the meeting I employed an Invisibility spell and began to trail him. Unfortunately Snape’s movements were quite limited. I followed him from the unused classroom to the library. It had an air of abandonment not uncommon this close to curfew. The only other student present was Deidre White. Evans had been correct in predicting her absence from the study group. Deidre was secluded in the Restricted section, quietly crying behind a stack of books.

_Poor thing,_ I reflected sympathetically. _She probably just wanted to find a place to be alone. Does she even knew her mother was an Unspeakable._

Snape perused several large and dusty tomes before departing for the Slytherin common room. Confident in my Invisibility spell, I entered and observed Snape from a corner of the low-ceilinged room. He engaged in a conversation with Rosier for a few moments, and afterwards sat alone on a dark sofa. Then Adhara Black entered the common room. The youngest of the Black sisters, she settled herself on a dark green wingchair and surprisingly began to play a violin. Discretely her cousin, Regulus, snapped a picture as she coaxed mournful strains from her violin. It was hauntingly beautiful, achingly so in fact, and soon drove the occupants, including Snape, from the common room with its sheer desolateness.

When the tracer charm suddenly fizzled out of existence after Snape headed to his dorm room, I called the night a bust and departed. Perhaps tomorrow would bring me a step closer in preventing the prophecies.  
 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Opening chapter quote is from The Garden of Cyrus, Chapter 4, by Sir Thomas Browne, circa 1658.
> 
> Written to the music of:  
> “Amityville Horror Main Theme”, from the Amityville Horror motion picture, by Lalo Schifrin
> 
> “Alessa’s Harmony”, Silent Hell, from the Silent Hill motion picture, by Stanton Shows


	4. Chasing Shadows

_“Depuis le jour de ma naissance, ma mort s'est mise en marche. Elle marche à ma rencontre, sans se presser.”  
~Jean Cocteau_

 

The cup of tea sat between my hands atop a dainty doily. Faint wisps of steam rose from it in lazy tendrils. Across the table with its pastel green cover and perky flower arrangement of pink roses and baby’s breath, Pettigrew tugged at the neckline of his shirt. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple.

“Y-your hair, it’s – uh – different.” When I met his eyes, he hastily continued. “I mean different in a good way. Not that your hair was bad before. ”

A smile played at my edges of my lips as he fumbled over his attempts to reassure me. Absentmindedly, I fingered a stray lock of my hair and looked out the window next to us. Between the frilly lace curtains, I spotted fellow Hogwarts students on the main street entering shops in groups of twos and threes.

A flash of red hair near the entrance of Honeydukes sent my mind wandering back to this morning. Lily Evans had surprised me by offering to do my hair for this date. Instead of the normal messy ponytail held in place with an Alice band, Lily had pulled it back into a fashionable French braid. I could still feel her sure fingers smoothing each recalcitrant lock into place. The only other person who had ever done my hair was my mother.

My breath caught in my throat. _No, that’s not true! Mother never did my hair; she died in childbirth._ The memory that had just played out in my mind was Charlotte’s, not mine. The fact that I had for a moment believed it, recalled it as my own, left me disturbed.

“-O.W.L.s?”

I reluctantly pulled my gaze away from the window. “I’m sorry, what about the O.W.L.s?”

“Do you think you’re ready?”

I nodded and sipped at the overly sweetened tea. “And you?”

“Yeah, I think I am. I mean, I’ve been practicing charms with Pron- uh- Potter and Black. And Remus has been helping me study History.” He glanced around the cramped tea shop. “I think I want to be an Auror. McGonagall says I’m good at Transfigurations.”

I raised one eyebrow and stared at Pettigrew. _An Auror?_ I couldn’t imagine this chubby, shy boy with messy hair hunting dark wizards. That was as unlikely as Snape turning handsome overnight or Sirius Black being anything other than a bloody toe-rag. If Peter ended up working for the Ministry, it would unquestionably be behind a desk at a dead-end job, tucked away in some forgotten corner.

The cherubs hanging from the ceiling chose that moment to toss baby’s breath petals upon the occupants. I waved the little petals away from my cup of tea. Cooing doves and lovebirds in gilded cages hung in the corners and fragrant bouquets of flowers festooned every available surface. It was as if someone had failed to inform Madam Puddifoot that Valentine’s Day had past months ago.

A shadow crossed in front of our window. It was Deidre White walking quickly past. Her messy long hair was a curtain that hid most of her face. I watched her veer across the street and into a dark little shop towards the end of the block. The shingle above the door read “Mephistophilus Rare and Olde Books”. I didn’t remember seeing that shop in Hogsmeade during my time at Hogwarts.

“So do you, um, practice with anyone? For the O.W.L.s?”

My eyes shifted back to Pettigrew and answer seemed to surprise him. “Yes, Evans invited me to study with her group.”

“Lily? She has a study group?” He sat forward eagerly and nearly upset his cup of tea.

I could see the cogs whirling in his brain, each of them engraved with the name James. It seemed Peter was quite the loyal friend if nothing else. “Yes, but please don’t tell Potter. I – I don’t think she wants him to know.”

“But why not?

_Why not, indeed? Possibly because he’s a world-class prat?_ But I couldn’t say that; Charlotte would never say anything mean about another student. I looked out the window to compose my thoughts and saw a familiar greasy-haired git. His shoulders were hunched and as made his way down the street, he furtively looked over his shoulder.

“Snape!” I hissed.

My attempts over the past week to discover what the Slytherin was up to had been meet with a distinct lack of success. He was as slippery as his House’s mascot. Every day that past without hearing from ‘Uncle Philbert’, I felt more pressured to discover how Snape might be connected to the prophecies. There were only a handful of weeks left in the school year; at any time, the events of the prophecies could come to dark fruition.

“What about Snivellus?

I had been so focused on Snape that I nearly forgotten Peter. He peered out the window and then back at me. My mouth opened and closed soundlessly like a fish as I searched for an excuse as to why I would be so interested in Snape and how I could extract myself from this farce of a date.

“Um, he has my Herbology notes from the study group. I think.”

“You think?” Peter’s brow furrowed as he tried to make sense out of what I had said. “Wait, did he steal them?”

It sounded as likely as anything I could think of at the moment, so I nodded. “I need to go find him.” I stood up to leave.

“I can help.”

The last thing I wanted was Peter Pettigrew slowing me down. My expression must have revealed my thoughts.

“No, really, I can.” Peter nearly tripped over himself trying to stand as his jacket got caught up on the chair. Having sorted out his jacket, he then promptly smacked his head into one of the hanging cherubs. At a neighboring table Bertha Jorkins loudly snickered at his ungainliness. Tobias Traverner at least had the decency to look away while his companion, Adhara Black, smirked silently.

This would never do. I might as well trail a herd Blast-Ended Skrewts behind me. “Peter, I think – it’s just -” I carefully fumbled my words like Charlotte would have. “Snape doesn’t trust you because of, well, your friends. If you were with me, he might not give me back my notes. I’m sorry.”

I didn’t wait for his response, but left him standing in the middle of the tea shop. Out on the street, I scanned for Snape and spotted him entering the same shop Deidre had gone into. I trotted down the lane and plowed through the door before I realize someone was standing just inside the entrance. Several books spilled from Deidre White’s arms, landing with a series of thuds at our feet, as we ran into each other.

“I’m sorry!” we both exclaimed simultaneously. Then together we knelt, like distorted reflections of each other, Deidre with her dark hair and trim figure, and me with Charlotte’s strawberry-blonde locks and overly generous frame.

I gathered one of the books, pausing only a moment to glance at the title. _‘Le Voile de la Mort,’_ I thought. _Is that French?_

Deidre plucked the books from my hands with a mumbled word of thanks. Then she darted away, weaving between fellow students on the street. I stood up and smoothed my hands down my slacks as I watched Deidre disappear. If I were lucky, Snape hadn’t noticed my blundering or if he had, would simply chalk it up to typical Charlotte clumsiness.

The bookshop was one of those places a person would expect to find hidden off a back alley. It was dimly lit and filled with tall shelves crammed with books and parchments. Jars with bits and bobs preserved in murky fluids, and other oddities such as the skeleton of a bird littered the top of the shelves. Strangely, several mirrors were mounted on some of the walls close to the ceiling; they offered tantalizing glimpses of things otherwise concealed where the shelves formed nooks and crannies. I was sharply reminded of Borgin and Burkes, and wondered if they were in any way associated with this shop.

Snape wasn’t visible from where I stood just inside the entrance. The shopkeeper, an older man with graying hair, did not look up from where he sat behind a desk reading. Then I saw one of his eyes had strayed my way. It was altogether disconcerting how he could read a book and watch customers simultaneously. Perhaps the mirrors weren’t so strange on second thought; the shopkeeper could literally keep an eye on customers that way.

I squeezed past a pair of close-set shelves and into an aisle hidden from shop door. When I followed the cramped path around a corner, I found myself suddenly confronted by my quarry. He shoved me against a set of shelves before I had time to think.

“Why are you following me,” he hissed, towering over me by a good hand.

I glanced down and saw his wand held at the ready; a thin book was clutched in his other hand. _How did he know I followed him into the shop?_ The answer came to me as quickly as the question had. The mirrors. There was one hanging discretely in the corner that would reveal anyone approaching.

Still I tried to talk my way out of the situation. “I-I wasn’t following-”

Snape would have none of it. “Do not lie to me,” he warned. “I know you have followed me at least twice this week at school.”

So much for my year of Auror training if a mere fifth-year could catch on to me trailing him. Snape must have discovered my initial tracer charm. It would explain why during my other attempts, Snape had wandered the far reaches of the castle without seeming to do anything. He had led me on a wild nargle-hunt.

“You can tell Sirius and James’ little pet Pettigrew that you failed in whatever they had you up to.” With that, Severus whirled on his heel and stalked away towards he front of the shop. My former Auror mentor would have been ashamed of my ineptitude if he could but see me.

_Sweet Godric’s hemorrhoids,_ I swore to myself. _Great job there, Aislinn._ There was only one way to remedy this. I couldn’t go back and fix my mistakes from earlier in the week, but it was within my power to change today’s outcome.

Shaking off my frustrations, I stood away from the bookshelves and concentrated on a rolled up parchment. I controlled my breathing, focusing until everything else began to fall away from my consciousness … everything except Snape’s voice asking about a book? Then there was nothing but the parchment, my steady heart beat and my measured exhalation. I reached in my mind back to Madam Puddifoot’s, the feel of the chair beneath me, the taste of the Grey Earl tea, Peter ...

Wind swirled around me, tugging at my hair and clothes as darkness encroached. My vision narrowed to a point of light from which flew pulsating streaks of color. As if from a great distance, I heard the shopkeeper answer in a creaky voice, _“Intempt…”_

The world Shifted.

A burst of brightness went off behind my eyes and I sucked in a deep breath as though having surfaced from the stream of time. For a brief moment, a word lingered in my mind. Something about tempting?

“-O.W.L.s?”

I blinked blankly at Pettigew where he sat across from me in the tea shop. A sharp pain made me wince and I absently rubbed at my right temple; the pain would subside shortly. Then I recalled how I had responded earlier. “I’m sorry, what about the OWLs?”

“Do you think you’re ready?”

I nodded. “And you?” I inquired and then sipped at the overly sweetened tea, grateful to have a moment to think. Had Lily walked by yet?

“Yeah, I think I am. I mean, I’ve been practicing charms with Pron- uh- Potter and Black. And Remus has been helping me study History.” He glanced around the cramped tea shop. “I think I want to be an Auror. McGonagall says I’m good at Transfigurations.”

I would gladly write Pettigrew a letter of recommendation to be Head Auror if he would shut up. Just then Deidre flashed by the window.

_Merlin’s hairy arse! I should have Shifted to a few moments earlier. Snape is going to be walk by any moment now._

“So do you, um, practice with anyone? For the O.W.L.s?”

“Yes, Lily has a study group,” I answered curtly.

“Lily? She has a-”

“Peter, I’m sorry,” I interrupted, not sorry in the least. “I have to go.” I stood up and scanned the room. There had to be a back door somewhere. I couldn’t jeopardize this second chance by leaving through front entrance.

Pettigrew blinked in confusion. “Go where? Why?”

I spotted the discrete sign for the loo and nodded in that direction. “Need to spend a penny.”

While he processed that, I stepped away to the hall next to the sign. As I had hoped, not only were there two doors leading to separate loos, but also a third that I hoped would be the way outside. It didn’t, not directly. Ducking behind a harried looking hostess and around a cook, who spun around asking what I was doing in the kitchen, I found the backdoor and made a quick exit.

Snape walked past the front of Madam Puddifoot’s just as I cast my Invisibility spell. Not wanting to risk detection, I opted to cast a second set of charms as I began to trail Snape. A charm to silence my footsteps, another to cloak my scent and a third to sharpen my sense of hearing.

I slipped behind Snape like a wraith as he entered the book store. There was Deidre at the counter with the shopkeeper, paying for her books. She glanced sideways at Snape as he walked past without acknowledging her presence.

I flattened myself against a shelf as Deidre swept by to leave. Once more I saw the name _‘Le Voile de la Mort’_ on the cover of one of her books. The second title was partially hidden; all I could make out was _‘-ox’_.

Then I continued my pursuit of Snape and walked to the back of the shop. He browsed the shelves for several long moments before carefully plucking a book with long, nimble fingers. _‘A Rúnsearc’_ , the title read. Below in smaller lettering was the translation, _‘Beloveds’_.

_Rowena’s tits! What would Snape want with a sentimental book like that?_

When Snape approached the shopkeeper, I was glad I had cast a hearing enhancement charm. He kept his voice low, almost as if he feared to be overheard.

“The girl who was here before me, what did she purchase?”

I could hear the old man draw in a wheezy breath. “Interested in her, are you?” he chuckled. “You won’t catch her attention with stories of soulmates.” Another round of chortling ensued, followed by a dry racking cough.

Snape reiterated his question impatiently. This time the shopkeeper waved his hand, and when his coughing had subsided, scribbled something on a scrap of paper. Snape frowned as he read the titles under his breath.

_“Intempt-”_ he began, but the shopkeeper cut him off.

“Do you intend to buy that book or not, boy?”

With a curt nod, Snape stuffed the note into a pocket while withdrawing funds to cover his purchase. I barely had time to slip out of the shop when Snape left.

~ ~ * ~ ~

I mounted the stairs to the girls dorms without sparing a glance at my fellow Gryffindors. After trailing Snape for close to two hours, I had discovered nothing more of interest other than his penchant for following Deidre White around the castle. It seemed the shopkeeper might have been correct in teasing him.

Dinner would be soon and I wanted to rest my head before having to deal with noise of the entire school body chatting and eating in an enclosed space. The low-grade headache from my earlier Shift was edging closer to full-blown status. No sooner than my head had hit the pillow than Lily Evans barged into the room. Her face was set in a disagreeable expression.

“You know that was quite rude of you,” she announced, her green eyes flashing.

I sat up and wondered what she was talking about. “What - what do you mean?”

“The way you treated Peter, abandoning him at Madam Puddifoot’s and leaving him to foot the bill. Then you walked right past him down in the common room as if he didn’t exist,” she huffed, arms crossed. “If you truly didn’t want to go out with him, you should have been forthright from the start.”

With a sigh, I collapsed back on the bed. Had Pettigrew been in the common room? I couldn’t remember seeing him there; then again, I hadn’t paid attention. The last thing I wanted, though, was Lily upset with me. She could easily cut me out of the study group and for the moment it was my sole connection to Snape. It seemed I would need to Shift for the second time day.

_But if I’m going to Shift anyways, I might was well use this moment wisely._

“I was following Snape.” My confession was met with an arched eyebrow, so I continued. “He’s been acting, well, weird. I caught him following Deidre today.”

“I asked Severus to keep an eye on Deidre, as a favor for me. He shares several classes with her that I do not. She’s been behaving oddly and I’m worried.” She eyed me critically. “That doesn’t explain why you treated Peter so poorly.”

_Well, well, that’s interesting. So he’s not attracted to White. But then why did he buy that book?_ The odds of Snape being a closeted romantic were low and as I had other priorities to think of, I put his peculiar reading preferences out of my mind.

“You’re right, my behavior towards Peter was horrid.” That seemed to mollify Lily. “And I’ll go down and apologize in a minute, but can you answer me this first?” I waited until Lily nodded. “Do you trust Severus Snape?”

Lily sat down at the foot of my bed. “I’ve known Sev since we were children. He can be off-putting at times, and I’ll admit our friendship has been strained as of late, but yes, I do trust him.”

In the seven months that I have admired Lily from afar, I have known her to be a good judge of character. That didn’t mean, however, that Severus could not unwittingly be responsible for the dark events that loomed over the future of the school. I would keep her evaluation in mind, though, while keeping an eye on other potential suspects.

Two that I had earlier in the year observed came to mind: the youngest members of the Lestrange and Rosier families, both seventh-years. Rabastan stood second in line to inherit the largess of the Lestranges; Evan was an only child. Neither Rabastan nor Evan had done anything outwardly to draw suspicion since the start of the year. I could not, however, continue to completely dismiss that both families had on occasion made deprecatory statements regarding those of less than pure wizard bloodlines. That alone casted a shadow, particularly when it was known Voldemort held similar views.

I sent Lily off with the promise that I would speak to Peter after I composed myself. The moment she left, I Shifted back to when I had followed Snape as he returned to Hogwarts.

It took me a few minutes to recover. I leaned against the wall of the Entrance Hall as pain fiercely stabbed my temples. Shifting twice in such a short span of time would guarantee a migraine. That was why I headed directly to the Hospital Wing instead of following Snape; he would merely trail after Deidre.

With my head throbbing, I chose to dispel my previous charms. There was no need to maintain them. If anyone saw me begging for a headache remedy and one of Madam Pomfrey’s tisanes specifically made for girls, it would only lend substance to my story. There was one sure-fire method to gain Lily’s sympathies while simultaneously ensuring Peter and the rest of the Marauders would leave me alone. I intended to use it.

I needed to wait two hours before approaching the common room, so I used the time to track down Evan Rosier. As a seventh-year, he was permitted to take part of the Hogsmeade weekend activities, yet I had not seen him there. Thankfully I found him with a fellow Slytherin, Mulciber, in the library reading books from the Restricted Section on the Dark Arts. In reality they were merely using the books as an excuse to covertly watch Mary Macdonald. I cared less their reasons why and was instead grateful Rosier had chosen the dimly lit library to do his watching; the relative quietness helped me to manage my migraine until the effects of the remedy brought it down to a merely annoying level.

The only thing I managed to accomplish before returning to the common room was speaking to Madam Pince. She readily translated the title of the book Deidre had purchased, _‘Le Voile de la Mort’_. According to the librarian, _‘The Veil of Death’_ was not a book the Hogwarts library had ever carried. I brushed off her questions as to why a fifth-year such as I would be interested in a morbid book regarding death. After suffering the loss of her family, was it surprising Deidre was interested in death and what might wait on the other side of the veil?

It was with flagging feet that I made my way back to the common room. By my estimation, I arrived a quarter of an hour earlier, but it did not matter. Lily was by the fireplace speaking with Peter, who looked upset. He was flanked by Sirius and James. Oddly enough, Remus, who usually seemed to be the voice of reason within that group, was missing.

I held a hand to my lower abdomen as I walked slowly up the stairs. Then I waited in my room for Lily to arrive. She was prompt in following me.

“You know that was quite rude of you,” she announced once more, her green eyes flashing.

With one arm clutched around my middle, and the other cradling my head, I didn’t have to act hard to appear ill. “He saw me down in the common room, didn’t he?” I sat on my bed and rocked a bit as concern flashed across Lily’s face. “I - I was so embarrassed, I couldn’t tell him.”

“If you mean Peter, yes, he saw you.” Lily approached my bed and sat next to me. “What’s wrong, Charlotte?”

“We were having a lovely time and suddenly I felt cramps.” I managed to a look of humiliation. “The painters – they came earlier. I wasn’t ready and my knickers were-” I shook my head as if I couldn’t go on.

It was an age-old tactic, using one’s menstrual cycle. Even grown men typically would blanch when the subject was broached. Women, on the other hand, often offered sympathy.

“It’s alright, Charlotte. It’s happened to all of us at one point or another. No one could blame you for slipping away like you did.” Lily slid a comforting arm around my shoulders. “Now, have you been to see Madam Pomfrey for her tisane?”

Dutifully I nodded my head, and then could hardly believe my luck when Lily asked whether I’d like her to handle the situation with Peter. Was there any question why Lily was so well liked? I almost felt guilty for deceiving her.

When she left, I waited a few moments, reapplied my hearing enhancement charm and then quietly snuck partway down the stairs to observe how she handled the Marauders. There was some hand waving by Sirius while James sat back. Peter just sulked. It was only when Lily tried to tactfully explain the reason for my abrupt departure that I had to jam a fist in my mouth to keep from laughing.

“Just try to understand,” she pleaded. “The painters came early.”

Black scrunched his eyebrows together and exchanged a baffled glance with Potter. “What the bloody hell are you going on about, Evans? What painters?”

Crossing her arms, she tried once more to make her point. “Um, the Wigtown Wanderers are playing at home.”

That served only to confuse them even further. “What do those arse-wipes on brooms have to do with Charlotte leaving Peter hanging?” Sirius threw his hands in the air. “James, your girl here is mental.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Lily snatched a rolled up parchment from the table next to them and swatted Sirius on the head.

“I am not his girl nor am I mental, Sirius Black!” Lily gave him an additional smack when Sirius tried to duck. “I swear the three of you have the combined intelligence of a flobber worm. Where’s Remus? He would understand.”

“Easy there, lovely,” James tried to placate Lily as he held up a hand to ward off any blows. “Remus is, uh, sick. He wasn’t feeling well so he went to the Hospital Wing – been there all afternoon.”

“Again? Wasn’t he ill last month as well?” Lily asked. Her concern for her fellow Prefect took the edge off her irritation.

“Um, yeah. I think he ate something that didn’t settle well. Now, why don’t you explain to us why you’re talking about painters of all things and a second-rate Quidditch team?”

With a sigh of exasperation, Lily leaned forward and hissed, “Peter, the reason Charlotte left was her monthly cycle came early. So there. I suggest you leave her alone for a while.”

As expected, the three Marauders pulled away as if Lily had announced she had contracted a particularly fatal disease. I barely managed to make it back to my room before I was overcome with mirth. A righteous Lily Evans was a thing of beauty to behold, her green eyes flashing as she had wielded the rolled up parchment.

But as my snickers faded, I was left with a lingering issue. Despite James’ assertions, Remus had most certainly not spent the entire afternoon in the Hospital Wing. It had been empty of students when I had visited earlier.

The question was where had Remus Lupin been then?

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Opening chapter quote from "Postambule" in La Fin du Potomac (1939), by Jean Cocteau. The translation from French is as follows: “The day of my birth, my death began its walk. It is walking toward me, without hurrying.”
> 
> Written to the music of:  
> “Alessa’s Harmony”, Silent Hell, from the Silent Hill motion picture, by Stanton Shows
> 
> End Credits, soundtrack of the motion picture Sleepy Hallow, performed by The London Oratory School Schola and The Metro Voices


	5. Darkness Descends

_“Death is our eternal companion. It is always to our left, an arm’s length behind us.”  
~ Carlos Castaneda_

 

_  
‘Ash!’_

_I can hear my sister screaming in my mind across our bond. ‘Nooo!’ Sympathetic tremors rack my body as somewhere far away Caitlin is tortured. I fall to my hands and knees to the cold, unforgiving floor of the Time Room. The Keeper is there and draws me close. I could barely make out her words over the shrieks of pain that ring within my head._

_“Where is she? Can you tell where he’s taken Caitlin?”_

_It’s no use. I can’t tell. All I can do is feel the echoes of her pain, each of us gasping as one for breath, until at last Caitlin reaches out and through me speaks her final prophecy._

_“Salvation wears the face of the dead. Birthed of flames that shift, time thrice rewound, the hourglass shatters beneath the cold gaze of heaven’s baleful eye. Blood is swept from the hallowed halls of learning that none could halt and leaves in its wake madness. Salvation bears time’s seal.”_

_My throat is raw from screaming the words. I can see Caitlin laying on the floor somewhere underground, her hand flung out towards me. I’m reaching for it._

_‘Save them, Ash. Save the students…’_

_She is torn from me. Her final breath rattles in her chest and a severing so deep shatters our bond. I scream._

 

Ragged breaths were torn from my chest as I sat up in my bed. My heart was racing as I stared sightlessly at the drawn curtains. I hadn’t dreamt about the events of that night in months, still I could hear Caitlin’s voice clearly.

_‘Save them …’_

I shook my head. It no longer hurt, but the rest of my body ached. In particular, my wrist throbbed where the twisted ends of Manacle were embedded. The room was cold and silent as I clambered out of the bed. As I layered a jumper over my pajamas and slipped on my shoes, I noted a heaviness to the air, a weight that seemed to press against my chest. Instinctively I checked my roommates; they were fast asleep. Nothing seemed amiss, and yet my unease lingered.

_It’s just the dream, Aislinn. You’re wound up from it._

I had learned to lie convincingly to anyone as part of my work as an Unspeakable, but I hadn’t figured out how to lie to myself well enough to believe it. My gut said there was something wrong and no amount of rationalization would change that. After retrieving my wand from the nightstand, I walked downstairs to the empty common room. The House Elves had already silently performed their job of tidying up. Yet for all that everything was in its place, I remained unsettled.

The soft chime of the clock on the fireplace mantel made me jump. It rang out three times. In the stillness that followed, a voice spoke out.

“Charlotte?”

It was only Lily coming down the stairs, but the moment she called my name I turned around with my wand at the ready. That she had hers in hand as well should have made me worried; instead I felt a sense a relief. It meant whatever this was, it wasn’t solely in my head.

_Could it be happening? Was it tonight?_

“Did you feel that, a few minutes ago?” Lily asked hesitantly. She made no mention of the fact that we were both standing with our wands out, nor did she lower hers.

Shaking my head, I responded, “I only just awoke.”

“It was like a bell ringing, only there wasn’t any sound, just – I don’t know, a feeling or a vibration in the air?” She laughed uneasily. “I sound ridiculous, don’t I?” Her hand wavered and she started to lower her wand. “Probably just some prank Potter and Black cooked up.”

“I don’t think so.”

I was about to tell her not to put away her wand when I saw something flickering just outside the large windows on either side of the fireplace. With a practiced soft step that belied my large figure, I approached the arched glass with its insets of alternating stained and clear panes, and peered outside. The sky was lit by a iridescent dome of light that seemed to enclose the entire castle and extended to the borders of school grounds. It flickered erratically, pulsating like a faltering heartbeat beneath the full moon. From my angle I could clearly see the Whomping Willow writhing about as if in pain; shadows darted below the whipping branches.

“What is that?” Lily’s voice was hushed as she leaned close to me and pointed upwards.

“I believe those are the wards placed over the school for protection.” My fingers curled tightly around my wand. As I watched, a veil of clouds was drawn over the moon, giving the illusion of an eye closing.

_An eye?_ My thoughts raced. _The prophecy Caitlin had made through me, hadn’t it made mentioned of an eye?_ I cast my mind back. _‘…beneath the cold gaze of heaven’s baleful eye …’ That’s it! It’s the full moon._

“Wards?”

Even as Lily spoke the wards gave one last strobe of light and then collapsed with a cascade of incandescent sparks and an odd vibration that made the very air tremble. At once the weight against my chest disappeared, leaving a trail of goose bumps raised on my skin.

“Lily, do you know the password to Dumbledore’ office?”

She shook her head and then asked, “What makes you think whatever that was were wards?”

I dropped all pretense of being Charlotte Banks and turned to her with a calm determination born of training. “Listen to me carefully, Lily Evans. You need to go to Dumbledore and tell him I sent you while I go scout the halls. The password to his office is sugar mice.”

She caught my arm and halted me as I took a step towards the common room door. “Scout the halls? Charlotte, you’re not acting like yourself.”

The time for games of charade had passed the moment the wards had failed. I grabbed Lily’s hand and shifted it downward to my wrist, atop the concealed Manacle. So long as the ends were embedded into my wrist, the stone was safe enough to touch. Lily inhaled sharply and her lovely green eyes widened; I could see my reflection in them, my real reflection.

“I’m not Charlotte Banks. My name is Aislinn Walker and I’m an Unspeakable sent from the Ministry to prevent a disaster. We are all in great danger, Lily. It’s imperative you find Dumbledore. Tell him it’s begun and that I’ve gone to stop it.”

Pulling her hand away, Lily stared at her palm and then back at me. I knew by her expression she could no longer discern me truly. Emotions flickered on her face and there were questions in her eyes.

“Trust me, Dumbledore knows who I am.” When she didn’t move, I placed both of my hands on her shoulders and implored, “Lily, you felt it yourself, the change in the air. I can’t delay any longer. People are going to die – students are going to die.”

With a sudden deep breath, Lily put her unspoken questions aside with a firm nod. “I’ll go to Dumbledore. Merlin help you if you aren’t who you say you are.”

_Merlin help us all,_ I thought to myself as we exited the common room. Although I was sorely tempted to finally remove the wretched Manacle, I dared not. As a stranger walking through these halls, I could call undo attention to myself and away from the real danger. Then there was the matter of the students themselves; they would likely more readily trust one of their own or a Professor in a situation like this. If anything, whoever it was, the perpetrator might not think much of mousy Charlotte Banks; they might not believe me a threat. I needed to take advantage of any edge available to me.

The corridors outside were utterly silent. I inaudibly cast a noise dampening charm on our feet as a precaution. When we reached the moving staircases, I reluctantly parted ways with Lily. Dumbledore’s office lay one floor above. Then I headed to the dungeons, following the same gut-level instinct that had told me something was wrong the moment I had woken up.

On the third floor, thin tendrils of mist curled across the hall. I paused and considered that the path to the Ravenclaw common room eventually lay in that direction. My instincts drew me downwards, but I couldn’t ignore this oddity. On silent feet I glided down the hall and the mist whirled in the wake of my passage.

_There. It’s coming from the Prefect’s bathroom?_ Mist seeped from under the door several yards away, swirling above something dark that had pooled on the floor. There was a smell of decay and dampness to the air, and as I inhaled, almost a coppery scent. On the wall next to the bathroom gleamed a mark. When I drew closer, it became clear it was a wet handprint.

_Blood._

A detached part of my mind identified it as both the source of the scent and the substance beneath the door. I eased closer, whispered the password and in one swift motion, jerked the door open while aiming my wand into the dark room. There was a scraping sound, a tearing of something just out of my line of sight and beyond what I could see in the darkened full length mirror opposite of me. Stepping over the slippery blood, I caught sight of movement to my left and turned.

Gathered in a ragged circle near the sunken tub, they knelt on the ground heedless of the pool of blood beneath them. Rags that once may been clothes covered their pale-white flesh and when they turned their faces towards me, there were smears of red around each of the Inferi’s mouths. The smell hit me, the stench of death, of open bowels. As one, they lurched to their feet.

My eyes unwillingly dropped to the object they had been huddled around. Bloody bits and pieces of almost recognizable things that my mind refused to identify littered the floor, and bobbed in the blood-tinged water of the large sunken bath. My gorge rose, and I fought to swallow it down as the Inferi staggered towards me, thin arms outstretched.

_“Incendio!”_

The flame leapt from my wand, sending the reanimated corpses staggering backwards. I didn’t relent until they collapsed into a smoldering, twitching mass.

The smell of burnt flesh and death was overwhelming in the enclosed space. I covered my mouth with my free hand in an attempt to ward off the roiling of my stomach when my eyes strayed to one the bloody pieces on the floor near my feet. It was a hand with long, delicate fingers and painted nails; a student’s hand.

I went down on my knees as my stomach heaved and the remains of my dinner spewed up. Clutching my midsection, I waited out the dry heaves and then drew the back of my hand across my mouth.

_Inferi don’t eat people, my mind argued, they just mindlessly follow orders._ Yet it was undeniable that the ones I had fought off had been doing just that, had torn a student limb from limb. It was well known in the Ministry that Voldemort was capable of and had used Inferi before. _Is he so sick and twisted he’d do this, to innocent students?_

I didn’t have time to contemplate it further as a girl’s scream rang out. I was on my feet and out of the Prefects’ bathroom in an instant. In the hallway, I paused, turning first to the right to where the Ravenclaw common room lay. The second shriek drew me back to the moving staircases. I looked up just as a figure stumbled out from a passage one floor above; she fell and with a resounding crack, slammed her head against the stair railing. Strands of long dark hair hung over the edge of the platform.

A breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding was expelled. It wasn’t Lily. I bolted up and cast a fireball just as two Inferi stumbled into view. As they burned to a crisp, I knelt down next to Bertha Jenkins. No longer would she snigger behind Pettigrew’s back. She was dead, not from the wounds on her arms, which were still dripping blood down the stairs, but from the blow to her temple.

I had no idea how Inferi penetrated the fourth floor of the castle without the Professors knowledge. The wards had only fallen a short time ago. I glanced up towards the fifth floor.

“Where the hell is Dumbledore?” I muttered. Lily should have made it to his office by now. As much as I desired to check on her, I couldn’t. Something pulled at me to head downwards. My training couldn’t justify putting the safety of one person, not even Lily Evans, ahead of my assignment or the safety of the school body. Reluctantly I headed in the only direction that made sense while making myself invisible.

On the first floor, I made for the Hufflepuff common room. They were underground; there was chance my goal lay there. The sounds of muffled yelling reached my ears before I even reached the nook on the right side of the kitchen. One of the large barrels in the middle row had mist leaking from around the edges of its lid. As I had never attempted to visit their common room in either my previous time as a student nor as Charlotte, I didn’t have a clue as to how to gain entrance. I banged on the lid.

“Open up!”

All I heard in response was shrieking. Then something heavy slammed against the lid with a dull thud. I stepped back as blood began to ooze from the bottom of the entrance.

_Helga’s fat arse! How did the Inferi manage to get inside a locked common room?_

After dispelling my invisibility, I flicked my wand in an intricate motion while silently mouthing the proper incantation. The two-meter tall lid blew to pieces in a shower of splinters. Between the resulting smoke and the mist, I could make out figures staggering inside. I didn’t hesitate in stepping over the twitching body of a mauled student and casting a stream of fire at the two Inferius that lurched my way.

“Use fire!” I shouted at the handful of students huddled at the back of the common room, looking for all the world like deer caught in bright lights. I fended off a third and then a fourth reanimated corpse. When they still hadn’t reacted, I yelled, “Bloody hell, do you want to die?”

That seemed to do the trick. Dirk Cresswell and a pair of seventh-year fraternal twins whose names I couldn’t recall, turned their wands towards the figures staggering out opposite doorways that led deeper into the Hufflepuff quarters. Fear still lurked in the students’ eyes, but they laid waste to the undead. It smelled like a charnel house.

Afterwards, I grabbed the twins; they were old enough to handle what I was about to send them off to do. _Gordon and Lissa, that’s their names._ “You two, go to Professor Sprout’s quarters and bring her here. If you see anything or anyone that’s not a student, professor or staff member, don’t ask questions - you light them on fire.” They wavered until I gave them a helpful shove towards the blown out entrance of the common room.

Once the twins had departed, I turned my attention back to the group of six or seven Hufflepuffs. Several appeared hurt. I put two in charge of finding something to tie up the wounds and told everyone to stay put. I couldn’t risk students wandering the halls trying to make it to the Hospital Wing.

Dirk stepped up to me. “What about the rest?” he asked, deferring to me in a way no one in their right mind would have done to Charlotte Banks just a week earlier. “There are other students trapped back there who can’t get past the bathrooms.”

“What do the bathrooms have to do with anything?”

His answer surprised me, although perhaps it shouldn’t have. “That’s where these things came from. They walked straight out of the big mirrors.”

I left Dirk in charge of defending the group while I headed to the passage at the left side of the room. There was more mist in this hall, billowing out from an open doorway. A shiver ran down my spine from the chill dampness. I shook it off and stepped in. The Hufflepuff bathrooms were little different than those in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. Tubs lined one wall while the back was divided into shower cubicles. It was the third wall that I was interested in. There were several full length mirrors interspersed between the sinks. Mist leaked out of them in a silent white flood.

Then as I stepped closer, I saw movement in the closest mirror. Not my own reflection, but something else: lurching figures in what appeared to be a vast, dark underground cavern. The closest one reached out and with clawed fingers pushed at the surface of the mirror. The glass bulged outwards, straining for a heartbeat, then gave way like liquid. The Inferius stumbled through and turned dead white eyes towards me. Behind it, another shambling figure approached.

I wasted no time in using on the mirrors the same spell I had used on the common room door. An explosive hail of glass flew in all directions. I turned back only when there was nothing left of the mirrors or the single Inferius that had managed to emerge.

It took twenty precious minutes to clear out the girls’ side of the Hufflepuff quarters and lead the survivors back. For over half a dozen of them, it had been too late. Their blood painted the rooms and the hall with swaths of garish red.

All the while, my mind reeled. Mirrors used as portals. This was bigger than just preventing the prophesized death of possibly hundreds of students. With a strategy like this, Voldemort could easily attack the Ministry from the inside. I desperately needed to send a message to the Keeper, but only after I figured out how Voldemort had achieved this. If I Shifted now – _Can I even Shift? I’ve never managed three times in the span of a day!_ \- I still wouldn’t know how Voldemort had done this or how to prevent it for happening elsewhere. Breaking every bloody mirror from here to Buckingham Palace was not a viable solution.

I left Dirk Cresswell in charge of breaking all other mirrors in the Hufflepuff quarters and ordered him to barricade the entrance as best as possible. Those not hurt would have to tend the wounded. There was no sign of the twins as I made my way out of the kitchens.

Thoughts raced through my head. H _ave they located Sprout yet or are laying dead somewhere? What about Lily? Did she ever find Dumbledore?_

I felt it then, as I stood at the bottom of the changing staircases. A pulling in my midsection as if a hook was embedded there and was dragging me downwards and across the courtyard.

_‘Trust your instincts, Walker.’_ That was one of the first things my Auror mentor had advised me long ago. Alastor Moody was not know as one of the best Aurors in the Ministry for nothing. If I lived through this, it would be thanks in no little part to how hard he had hounded me during that one year of training before I transferred to the Unspeakables.

Shouting yanked me out of my reverie. Two flights above were Professor Sprout, Gordon and Lissa.

“Professor,” I called out as she came puffing down the stairs. “The Hufflepuff common room is secure!” At least it should be, provided Dirk and the others had done as I had instructed. “The Inferi, they’re coming from the mirrors! We need to break all of them in the castle.”

I started off with the intention of heading towards the courtyard, but was pulled up short by Professor Sprout’s breathless objection.

“Where are you going, Charlotte? We must stick together!”

With a shake of my head, I pointed back up the way she had came. “The Ravenclaws and Gryffindors – they need to be warned. I’ll try to get to the Slytherins.” I couldn’t very well explain my gut-instinct that insisted the source of this terror lay further downward. If I could reach the Slytherins, I would. There was a chance that I wouldn’t be able to Shift, and if that turned out to be true, then I was at least obligated to save as many students as possible.

“You can’t go alone. You’re only a fifth-year.”

I eyed the Herbology teacher with impatience. This was the downside of keeping the Manacle on. Sprout could only see clumsy young Charlotte Banks in front of her, not an experienced Unspeakable.

“Between the Ravenclaws and the Gryffindors, half of the school body is up there,” I argued. “I know for a fact there are Inferi coming out of the mirror in the Prefects’ bathroom. You need to take care of that, rouse Professor Flitwick and check on those students.”

Without waiting for a response, I cast my invisibility spell and left Professor Sprout staring at where I had been as I took off at a dead run.  
 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Opening chapter quote from The Wheel of Time: The Shamans Of Mexico Their Thoughts About Life Death And The Universe, Chapter 3, page 81, written by Carlos Castaneda
> 
> Written to the music of:  
> "The Thing", The Essential John Carpenter Film Music Collection, performed by The City of Prague Philharmonic.
> 
> “A Place of Mental Scars”, Silent Hell, from the Silent Hill motion picture, by Stanton Shows


	6. Dead of Night

_“In the midst of life we are in death. Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust …”  
~ Book of Common Prayer_

 

_Sprout’s not a bad Professor, Aislinn,_ I told myself after having abandoned the Herbology instructor. _She just isn’t McGonagall._ The Transfiguration instructor I would trust at my back. Her absence, as well as Dumbledore’s, was worrying but not enough for me to turn away from my appointed task.

As I darted down the last steps to the dungeons my feet got tangled in something hidden from my sight. There was a masculine grunt as my shins struck an immovable object. Desperately I tried to turn my fall into a roll and failed. My shoulder and head slammed into the floor. There was an odd movement in the air and then I saw Sirius Black standing above me. In one hand he held his wand aloft while the other grasped a cloak of some sort. He was trying to locate what had just run into him. My head was ringing as I dispelled my invisibility.

“Banks?” Sirius reached out to pull me to my feet. His hand was slick with something wet. It was blood. His shirt was drenched in it; smears marred his aristocratic features.

“Sirius, are you okay? You’re covered in blood.”

He looked down at his chest. “Not mine.” His voice was unsteady and his pale face had the unmistakable look of shock. “James,” he started to explain. “James and Peter. They’re – they’re dead.”

It was hard not to wince, not to think of bumbling Pettigrew and Potter dead. The amount of blood on Sirius meant his friends had not died pleasantly.

“Were they in the Gryffindor common room?”

Sirius stared at me blankly, so I grabbed his arm and shook him firmly. “Sirius, where were Peter and James? In the common room? Did the Inferi gain access there, too?”

I was prepared for him to tell me yes. It would only make sense since the Gryffindor bathrooms were nearly the exact same configuration as the Hufflepuff’s.

He numbly shook his head. “No, no Inferi. It was Remus … in the Shrieking Shack.”

I eyed him in open disbelief. Remus Lupin, the mild Prefect? He killed two of his best mates? It was inconceivable. And yet, hadn’t he been missing yesterday afternoon? I knew full well he hadn’t been at the Hospital Wing.

“He – he was crazed. I’ve never seen him like this. I just stood there as he tore them apart.” Sirius held up the cloak as if it held some significance. Then I realized that part of his hand where the cloak covered had disappeared. Before I could remark on it, Sirius continued.

“I followed him into the castle. He went down there.” Sirius pointed to the dimly lit dungeon passage that stretched behind me. “I think - he might have been following Lily.”

That sealed it for me. If Sirius was correct, than Remus Lupin was responsible for the army of Inferi that roamed the halls. What I needed now was to learn how he had done it, how he had transformed mirrors into portals the undead. Had Remus done this on his own or was he merely a pawn that Voldemort had used? I turned away only to be halted by Sirius stepping in front of me.

“You don’t understand. Remus is a monster, Banks, a beast. You won’t be able to stop him alone.”

Sirius Black would be flabbergasted at what I was capable of, if he only knew. My lips twisted into a sneer that did nothing to deter him.

“Bloody hell, I should’ve stopped him,” he confessed quietly, anger warming his voice. “But I couldn’t do it alone. Maybe we can do it together.”

I understood what he was offering, and would accept his help, but only on my terms. He wasn’t going to treat me like some damsel in distress. I had had enough of being clumsy, meek, overweight Charlotte Banks. Curling my fingers around the side of the Manacle, careful to avoid touching the ornate stone itself, I yanked hard. The bracelet resisted for a moment and pain seared into my wrist like liquid flames. Then the twisted ends reluctantly slid out like a pair of fangs unwilling to part from my flesh.

Even as I shoved the Manacle safely in my pocket, Sirius gasped in alarm at my abrupt transformation. I took advantage of his astonishment to discretely tighten the drawstrings of my pajama bottoms; they would have slipped past my now slender hips otherwise. Then for the second time that night, I revealed my identity.

“My name is Aislinn Walker, and I’m an Unspeakable with the Ministry. If you want to do something, Sirius Black, then help me bind this damn wrist of mine so we can hunt down Remus Lupin and stop him.”

He took my announcement better than I had expected. Maybe he saw in my eyes and demeanor that I was dead serious. Maybe he was still in shock. It really didn’t matter to me. Sirius followed my orders and quickly bound up my wrist with a somewhat clean handkerchief he pulled from one of his pockets. I snorted when I realized was one of the fancy types that children of wealthy families often had, embroidered with his initials.

“Ground rules,” I said in a low voice as we started down the hall. “I lead, you follow. You’re right-handed, right? Good. I’m the opposite. Keep your left hand on my right shoulder so I can keep tabs on you and so you don’t block my wand hand. If we encounter anything, I’ll cover the low ground; you cover from above me. Use fire spells. Got all that?” At his nod, I indicated the cloak he still clutched. “If that’s an Invisibility Cloak, put it on; it should keep you relatively safe.”

Our passage down the hall was silent after I applied the noise-deafening charm on Sirius’ booted feet. With him at my back, I could not risk making myself invisible. I could only hope that he would remember half of what I had told him and keep his wits about him when we encountered danger.

The smell of death hung thickly in this area. It wasn’t long before we saw blood. It was everywhere. Where the blood had dripped down the walls, it gave the illusion that the very stones of Hogwarts were weeping. Then we came a figure slumped on the ground. A quick look identified it as Tobias Traverner, or what remained of him. The corridor floor was slick with his blood. A few meters away was the savagely dismembered bodies of several Inferi.

_Did Lupin destroyed his own Inferi? Or did the Inferi turned on themselves?_

Sirius gulped loudly behind me, but didn’t hesitate or vomit as I led him forward. I tried to breath through my mouth, but I could taste the blood and corruption in the air. It was the sickeningly scent of burnt flesh mixed with the stench of an outhouse. Inferi had been destroyed somewhere up ahead. Perhaps the rest of the Slytherins had fared better than poor Tobias.

Further on the guttering light of a fallen stone brazier threw uneven shadows as we approached an intersection. To the left was the hall that led to the Slytherin common room; straight ahead would be a series of classrooms. I was trying to recall if the right side of the intersection was where the broom closet was or the loos, when a low, thick, wet sound halted my steps. I held my right hand to stop Sirius.

Guardedly I slid one foot forward, my back pressed against the wall opposite of the stone brazier. The damp coldness of the stone radiated through my light jumper and pajama top. Just around the corner I could see strands of what I thought was dark hair fanned across the floor; strands partially obscured some sort of white rectangular object that laid near her head. I eased forward, dropping silently to one knee. I needed to stay low. If something suddenly came at us, I wanted to be clear of Sirius’ line of fire. Leaning cautiously to the side, I tried to peer into the gloom without exposing myself to whatever had made that sound. The muscles in my thighs quivered with the tension.

The inky pool of hair was puddled around the upper portion of a hauntingly familiar face. It took me a few seconds to realize it belonged to Adhara Black. Wide black eyes gazed at the ceiling. Her porcelain-fine skin almost glowed against the darkness while the lower portion of her face was hidden in shadow.

Then she shook her head slightly from side to side in the flickering light and her eyes seemed to blink. Her hair shifted to reveal the rectangular object on the floor was a tarot card with a beautiful depiction of a fairy queen.

_Why does she just lay there? Is she hurt? Is she shaking her head to tell us there something else around?_

I quickly scanned the hall ahead of me and before glancing to where the Slytherin common room lay, but they appeared empty. Then a soft ripping sound, like something wet being torn slowly apart, yanked my attention back to Adhara. Her flawless white skin was marred by three drops of darkness that hadn’t been there seconds before. Two of the drops were small and dotted her forehead; the larger one perched precariously on her high cheekbone. Her dark eyes continued to gaze openly.

Sirius stepped forward before I could stop him, pulling off his cloak. “’Dhara!” he hissed when he saw who laid in the corridor. “Cousin!”

I sunk my empty hand into his shirt and hauled him back. There was something wrong. A pit of ice formed in my stomach. I watched as the larger drop slid slowly down into her unblinking eye, leaving a sinister red trail that shone darkly in the flickering light. There it spread like a stain, tendrils of corruption creeping across the whiteness until her eye resembled an onyx floating in a pool of blood.

Abruptly, a low growl rumbled from the darkness. Lantern-orange eyes glared malevolently. This was no Inferi.

_Lumos!_

For a handful of heartbeats, I regretted my action. The light of my wand revealed what had been better off hidden in shadows. The bottom half of Adhara’s face was missing. The lips that had smirked so casually would never do so again. Her lower jaw had been ripped away. All that remained was a gaping hole. I found myself staring at her perfectly straight upper teeth and wondering how they had escaped damage.

Then I forced my gaze past the horrible wound and found the lantern-eyes. The large head of a wolf rose slowly from the cavity of Adhara's stomach. Blood drenched its short snout and dripped off its wickedly sharp teeth. The wolf snarled and whatever it had been eating fell, landing with a wet smack.

“Moony?” Sirius’ voice cracked. “Damn you, Remus!”

I faltered. _Remus Lupin is a … werewolf?_

In that moment of hesitation, Sirius tore away from my grasp and attacked. A stream of flames burst from his wand at the werewolf. I barely had the chance to latch onto Sirius’ free arm and throw us to the floor when the werewolf launched itself over Adhara’s corpse. Knife-edged claws whistled through the air where we had just been.

Laying half atop Sirius, I waved my wand in a sinuous whip-like motion. A thin flame flew forth, encircling the werewolf tightly. There was the smell of singed hair. Teeth flashed as it snapped at us a bare meter away, struggling to free itself from my rope of fire.

Sirius crawled from under me, pulled me to my feet and then shouted, _“Deprimo!”_

The explosion slammed into the werewolf, violently launching it down the hall. The fire rope from my wand stretched thin and broke. I debated for an instant what spell to use next. Werewolves hadn’t been covered during my year of Auror training. No one at the Ministry would fault me for putting down Lupin permanently, though.

As my rope sputtered around the dark form of the stunned werewolf, a hunched-over figure staggered out from one of the classrooms just behind the beast. Professor McGonagall leaned heavily against the wall, clutching her stomach, and waved her wand. Thin, snakelike cords burst forth and wound around the dazed creature. With a precise flick of her wrist, the cords dragged the bound werewolf into the classroom and then the door slammed shut.

“Professor!”

Sirius and I edged around the remains of Adhara and ran as the Transfiguration instructor sagged wearily against the wall and slid down. Her face was pale and her glasses hung haphazardly off one ear.

“Are you alright?” Sirius asked, but McGonagall’s eyes were focused on me.

“Ais-Aislinn Walker.” McGonagall’s voice was weak as I knelt at her side and straightened her glasses. “Lily said … you were here.”

I drew a breath to tell her that I had sent Lily to find Dumbledore when my eyes trailed from her nearly colorless face and down to where she held her stomach. Dark blood gushed over her hand. When I reached out to examine her wounds, McGonagall shook her head.

“He surprised me,” she explained softly.

A look passed between us, and then I glanced at Sirius. He was shaking his head, unable to accept what his Head of House was saying.

“No!” He turned to me, frantic. “Can’t you do anything for her? You said you were an Unspeakable!”

My healing skills were limited and it would take close to a miracle to address a cursed wound of that severity. I drew a breath to try to reason with Sirius when McGonagall pointed at the locked classroom door with a trembling hand that could no longer hold a wand. So intent we had been on her that we had missed the sounds of scratching and growling. The door suddenly shudder on its frame as we watched.

“The door … Aislinn. Transfigure it … into stone.” Her voice was becoming fainter.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Standing up, I recalled the spell McGonagall had taught my class years ago and performed it flawlessly for her once more as I had back then. Remus Lupin would remain sealed in the classroom until someone rescued him in the morning, provided I didn’t manage to Shift and prevent this catastrophe.

McGongall coughed and blood stained her lips. “Ten points … Ravenclaw.”

I knelt back down next to her and asked where Dumbledore was. Of all the staff I had expected to see helping to protect the students, the Headmaster had been curiously absent. I had a bone to pick with Dumbledore when I got my hands on him. Not informing me that one of the students had lycanthropy went beyond irrational. I would have kept tabs of a different sort on Remus, had I but known. As it stood, I had nearly walked into the damn werewolf. I couldn’t bloody very well prevent the prophecy from happening if I was dead.

“Went to London after dinner …” McGonagall answered, “Board of Governors …”

I glanced once more at Sirius and evaluated him. He had done well for a sixteen year-old, but the anger that had sustained him earlier had faded in the face of McGonagall’s fate. I couldn’t fault him for that, not after he had seen two of his friends and his cousin mauled to death.

“Sirius, I need you to stay with Professor McGonagall while I look for Lily. Can you do that for me?” I asked quietly. “No one should pass through the veil alone.”

I needed to find out who was responsible for the Inferi since it obviously wasn’t Remus Lupin. I was back at square one and couldn’t afford to delay. The only clue I had was tied up in my instincts.

Sirius drew me to the side and whispered, “But – but what do I do? What do I say?”

What did one do when sitting with someone who was dying? I had never found myself in that situation previously, so I told Sirius the first thing that came to mind.

“Hold her hand, and tell her about the outrageous pranks you’re responsible for.”

After getting Sirius’ word to stay with the fading McGonagall and to use his cloak to stay hidden should danger appear, I set off. He was recounting the time he and Remus had shaved Mrs. Norris and painted her maroon and gold. I doubted she would last much longer.

Just past a set of unused classrooms, the hall made a sharp left turn. The mist I had found elsewhere was thicker here, evidence that I must be close to my goal. I was aiming for a set of stairs at the end of the hall that led downwards to storage rooms when I head soft singing. Had I not applied my hearing enhancement charm earlier, I would have missed it altogether.

It came from the classroom reserved this year for Muggle Studies. Blood was smeared on the floor as if something had been dragged into the classroom. Cautiously, I opened the door. A figure was huddled on the ground over a pair of shapely legs. I held my wand, prepared to cast a spell when the figure turned and my heart stopped.

Severus Snape knelt on the stone floor, cradling a mauled Lily Evans in his arms. Blood gushed from wounds clearly made by a werewolf’s bite. Sirius had been right; Lupin had chased Lily, had attacked her.

Snape’s black eyes flashed suspiciously at me, a stranger he did not recognize. I lowered my wand and held my other hand palm facing outward to indicate my peaceful intentions. Without once stopping, Severus returned his gaze to Lily and continued frantically singing an incantation as he waved his wand over her. I was held transfixed by the sight until irregular footsteps dragged my attention away. A small mob of Inferi emerged from the doorway that led downstairs.

“Save her,” I whispered to Severus, not knowing whether he even heard me. Then I stood back from the Muggle Studies classroom and sealed the door as I had with Lupin. It was the least I could do.

With the number of Inferi approaching me over a dozen strong, I couldn’t afford to use fireballs; the chances of being overwhelmed were high. Instead I unleashed a wall of flame and I pushed it forward in a slow wave that crested the ceiling as it engulfed the undead. Their bodies collapsed in a twitching mass that I grimly picked my steps through.

More Inferi were coming up when I turned into the stairway. A smaller wall of fire took care of them as I descended. I had to resort to holding the neckline of my jumper over my nose in order to not breathe in their ashes in the enclosed space. At the bottom of the stairs, unearthly light painted the floor in shifting colors. In that eerie cold light I saw a book laying just within the door frame. _‘Le Voile de la Mort,’_ the title read.

_This is it,_ I grimly acknowledged. After all I had witnessed tonight, the deaths, the sheer carnage, I felt I was prepared for anything.

I was dead wrong.

A circle of light enclosed the center of the room. Indecipherable runes, at once teasingly familiar and yet perverse in their composition, were drawn in otherworldly black flames that danced at the edge of the circle. They burned my eyes when I attempted to focus on them. Then my gaze was drawn past the sickening runes to ancient mirror with its clawed feet and carved frame. A cold breeze issued from the dark surface of the glass, making it ripple like an ethereal curtain, a spectral barrier that teased the edges of my memory. Wraithlike whispers sighed as mist slowly churned out, nearly obscuring the black lilies that lay scattered on the ground. A detached part of my mind read the engraving, _‘Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.’*_

Two adult Inferi clawed at the lower half of a girl hung suspended over a meter in the air. Pulsating threads of magic bound her to the mirror. It took me only a heartbeat to recognize her as Deidre White. Her face was a twisted rictus of pain, and her mouth stretched and closed in a silent scream. The only other part of her that moved were her black eyes; they rolled my way, pleading. In her clawed hands she clutched a book; its title stole my breath away.

_‘Intemptesta Nox’._ Dead of Night.

The book was a proscribed grimoire, barred by the Ministry of Magic for the dark spells, both of magic and Fae, that it contained. I had never seen a copy of it in all my time working as an Unspeakable. My mind flashed back to the bookshop in Hogsmeade. Unauthorized possession of or selling of the book carried with it a mandatory sentence in Azkaban.

In that moment, all of the pieces came together. I recognized the mirror for what it was then, recalled the shifting curtain I had only seen before in the Death Chamber. Deidre, the quiet spoken Ravenclaw, who like me had lost her entire family to Voldemort’s followers; she could have been my twin in heart-rending grief. The girl whose odd behavior no one had noticed, no one but Lily Evans, who had asked Snape to follow her. Deidre White had used uncontrollable dark magic in conjunction with the Mirror of Erised in a misguided effort to summon her parents from beyond the Veil. The desire to be reunited with her family had consumed her – was, in fact, still consuming her, bit by bloody bit.

Then one of the Inferi turned from Deidre to face me. It was Vivian White. Her pale face was covered in her daughter’s blood. The undead body of the Unspeakable stumbled towards me. Without hesitation I whirled my wand overhead in a wide ring, conjuring forth a firestorm. The resulting red flames encircled me, surging forward until they met the black-flamed runes. There was deafening roar and a wave of heat as the flames fought, black against red, leaping upwards to the ceiling. Then abruptly my flames sputtered and died, leaving me awash in the cold breeze.

This was not a battle I could win. The knowledge sat like a cold lump in my stomach. The twisted runes of the circle, born of magic and Fae and utter darkness, were too strong. I had only one recourse left; one path that only I, of all people, could take.

_‘Save them, Ash. Save the students…’_

I had to go back to before I had awoke, to before darkness had fallen. I had to return before Dumbledore left. With his experience defeating Grindelwald and combating foul magic, he alone could stop this madness, if I could only reach him in time.

I focused on the book Deidre clenched. Stared beyond the shuffling gait of Vivian and focused solely on the title,  _Intemptesta Nox_. I struggled to control my breathing, to slow my racing heart. Everything fell away, the perverse runes, the smell of death, Vivian’s clawed hands stretching towards me.

And then I heard it, a whisper as the wind swirled around me and darkness encroached. Deidre voice, sighing in my ears from a great distance, murmuring words imbued with the resounding power of prophecy.

_“Bathed in the streams of time yet unborn, she slows the flow of death. Thrice bound and thrice empowered, the Black Lily is the key.”_

A pressure unlike any I had previously felt brutally squeezed my head in a vice as I reached back to supper in the Great Hall, to my seat next to Lily where we had eaten sausages. Tears poured from my eyes as I clawed my way against the flow of time; a roaring drowned out all other sounds. The world shifted violently, wrenching me mercilessly backwards with a shards of blinding, pulsating light, threatening to tear me to shreds.

Everything went black.

In the next instant, I back was in the Great Hall. Pain exploded, flaying me from the inside. I shrieked, clutching at my head and landed on my back. My heels beat pitilessly on the stone floor as my body convulsed. Faces loomed into view, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying. My ears were ringing and my head threatened to split open. Everything was awash in red, as though I were looking through a film of blood.

Then Lily was there holding my hand. My fingers were slick against hers. My other hand was wet as I pressed it against my ear. Was I bleeding? I tried to speak, but nothing came out except ragged gasps.

_You have to tell them, Aislinn._ It was as if I could hear Caitlin. _Tell Dumbledore._

“D-d-dumble-d-dore.” The name was torn from my raw throat.

I could see Lily mouth my name silently. _No, not mine, Charlotte’s._ I tore my hand from Lily and grasped the Manacle where it once more sat on my wrist. With a cry I tore it free. Lily pulled back, eyes wide as I transformed back into my normal self, a stranger she had never seen.

Then a hand suddenly grabbed my arm. Fingers carefully enclosed the Manacle as Dumbledore’s face swam into view. Relief swept over me. The Headmaster removed the device from my grip and pocketed it away in his voluminous robes.

“Aislinn?” he mouthed.

Then Dumbledore placed his hands over my ears and the ringing diminished as the pain retreated somewhat. Muted sounds returned. I could hear the scrapping of chairs and the voices of the students who had gathered in a circle around me. In the reflection of the Headmaster’s half-moon glasses, I could see blood seeping from my eyes, my ears, even my nose.

“Deidre White,” I gasped. “Stop her … uses … Mirror of Erised.” I clutched at Dumbledore’s hand and pulled myself closer to him. The movement made dark splotches crowd the edges of my vision. _“Intemptesta Nox.”_

His eyes visibly widened as he called out to Professor McGonagall. Before he pulled away, I whispered one last thing. “Beware the wolf.”

As I slipped back to the cold comfort of the floor, my eyes focused on a pale face to my left. Severus Snape’s black eyes seemed to bore into mine. Could he see the darkness that lurked within, the horror I had witnessed?

Then unconsciousness rose up like a wave to claim me and I knew no more.

~ ~ * ~ ~

I awoke in St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries seven days later. At my side was the Keeper, who quietly welcomed me back to the land of the living. She had kept vigil over me since I had arrived, so I learned. My unparalleled efforts in preventing the fulfillment of century-old prophecy had been a success.

“Get better, Aislinn. Take as much time as you need so you can return as my Assistant,” she murmured as she pressed a cold, hard object into my hand. “The blood of three generations of Keepers runs in your veins. Your mother was the Keeper before me, as was her mother and grandmother. It’s time you took your rightful place.”

I let the Keeper go without bothering to correct her. There was more than the blood of three generations of Keepers in my family; there was three also on my father’s side. Caitlin and I were the culmination of six generations altogether. I had always thought my twin would be the seventh.

Not that it matter. Neither did the object that the Keeper had pressed into my hand. It was an Order of Merlin First Class metal. I wound the green ribbon it hung upon around my fingers and laughed bitterly.

In the days that followed, I received a number of visitors. Co-workers wished me well. From them I discovered that the forbidden book Deidre had used had conveniently disappeared. As for the shop in Hogsmeade, their unannounced pre-dawn raid had found it empty of everything save for cobwebs and barren bookshelves. The shopkeeper and his wares had disappeared in the dead of night.

The Minister himself visited to tell me how grateful everyone was for my outstanding bravery in using the Manacle. Of course the Keeper came daily, to keep careful tabs on her soon-to-be Assistant. She was the one who confided that “Uncle Philbert” had been compromised. Otherwise, everyone was careful to avoid asking for details as to what exactly had happened. I would be debriefed once I left the hospital; until then protocol required I remain silent regarding the events.

One day when I was alone, Dumbledore strode in. He wore a genial smile, but his piercing eyes took in everything. He spoke to me about the students, how he had found Deidre White before she could cast the spell. The bereaved Ravenclaw was safe now, receiving the counseling she had, in hindsight, so desperately needed. As it stood, the only real casualty had been Charlotte Banks. Those who had been close to the ill-fated fifth-year were also given the opportunity to receive counseling once it had been revealed the real Charlotte had died months ago. My presence had been explained as the Ministry merely guarding the well-being of the students.

We did not discuss the fact that Dumbledore had not seen fit to reveal the situation regarding Remus Lupin. If the Headmaster wanted to allow a student with lycanthropy to attend Hogwarts, then on his head would fall any consequences. I was no longer responsible for the fate of his students. As for the Manacle, I left it in Dumbledore’s care. If the Ministry wanted to retrieve it, they could so on their own. I suspected they would find it had disappeared as conveniently as the forbidden book.

Three weeks after I had been admitted to St. Mungo’s, the medi-wizards and witches who had cared for me declared I had made a full recovery and I was released to go home.

They were wrong. Inside me the dead of night still lurked. It was there every time I closed my eyes.

 

   
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Opening chapter quote from The Book of Common Prayer, Liturgy of the Anglican Church, The Burial of the Dead, circa 1662.
> 
> The words engraved above the Mirror of Erised are from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, by JK Rowling, chapter twelve, page 207, US hardback edition
> 
> Written to the music of:  
> Dark Ambient Industrial playlist, mixed by Atrium Carceri
> 
> “A Place of Mental Scars”, Silent Hell, from the Silent Hill motion picture, by Stanton Shows
> 
> “Deny me, Die”, Silent Hell, from the Silent Hill motion picture, by Stanton Shows


	7. Chapter 7

_“Death is just another path, one that we must all take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass ... and then you see it ...”  
~ Gandalf the White_

 

I shook off the dark memories of the past as I emerged from the house I had grown up in, and entered the gardens that lay behind it. In my childhood the garden had been brimming with beautiful blossoms. Butterflies had flitted about while hummingbirds had flashed through the air during the long ago days of summer. Ornamental trees had been home to any number of songbirds. It had once been so full of life and light.

No birds lived there nowadays. The trees had withered to bone-white skeletal branches that hungrily grasped upwards from the fallow earth. At the base of the trees thrived the only living plants in the garden: black lilies. It was only fitting, as they were often found in graveyards. The heavy black petals glistened and their delicate fragrance perfumed the air. Fragile silver stamens were stained green by the Dark Mark that hung ominously in the sky.

The only others present among the living were the silent figures in robes. There were five of them arranged in a semi-circle before me. Four were of average build, but one was a particularly large and hulking presence at the far end. Death masks peered from under the hoods of those that flanked the middlemost figure. The only feature I could see of that one were the slitted red eyes that regarded me carefully.

“Forgive me for not inviting you inside,” I spoke evenly, “but I doubt you are here for empty pleasantries such as tea.”

“Aislinn Walker.” The middle figure addressed me, caressing the “s” in my given name.

“Lord Voldemort.” I inclined my head slightly. There were sharp, hissing intakes of breath from the others. I let slip a coy little smile that whispered of inexplicable secrets. Giving voice to that name no longer frightened me.

In an instant my vision wavered. The skeletal branches shook in a phantom wind. The very air vibrated and my skull reverberated with a deep tolling. Shadows bled away as the figures now stood proudly beneath a suddenly brighter moon. No longer did the Dark Mark mar the sky. The masks shimmered and melted away like shadowy mist to reveal self-righteous faces. I recognized Bellatrix LeStrange with her sharp, dark features. Next to her was her husband, Rodolphus. On the other side of the semi-circle was the coldly arrogant Lucius Malfoy. Beneath his pale hair his haughty expression hid a heart as black as the night.

It was the man at Lucius’ side who peered at me with familiar grey eyes that stole my breath away. _No, it can’t be._ This Death Eater was no longer the hulking figure who stood there seconds before. In his place stood a lean man with a familiar handsome face, lips twisted into a sneer. Sirius Black had surrendered to the inevitable and taken his rightful place as heir to the House of Black. No trace existed of the young man who had been my reluctant potions partner, who had fought by my side against a werewolf and comforted a dying teacher.

I had expected perhaps Severus Snape to stand amongst the Death Eaters, or even Mulciber. Anyone but Sirius. A tremor shook my heart as my eyes traveled over them, noting the expensive cut of fine robes and the arcane symbols picked out in silver thread. On the left shoulder of each was a distinctive emblem. It was a stylized broach in the shape of skull and snake. The mark that struck fear in others now was an insignia of high honor.

The centermost figure boasted the emblem on both shoulders; they held in place a velvety midnight cloak. Beneath it, Voldemort was clad in the finest of wizard robes and his pale face was exposed arrogantly. On his brow was a silver circlet and at his feet crouched a mound of rags. It shifted and I realized with a sudden chill that the mound was a person, a witch I had admired from afar. Lily Evans’ lovely auburn hair had been shorn; her face was stained with dirt, and marred bruises and scars. A heavy black collar imprisoned her throat; from it a chain led to Voldemort’s hand.

The war was over. Voldemort ruled supreme and all was lost.

A piercing pain split my head and my stomach churned. The world shuttered again as I swayed in agony, grasping my head. The tolling returned to deafen me. The pain swelled, swallowing me whole, and suddenly … all was still. It was utterly silent except for the frantic pounding of my heart. No longer did my head threatened to split apart.

I peered up cautiously, lowering my hands. The moon hid its face from the Dark Mark behind a thin veil of clouds. The figures no longer wore their finery and their faces were concealed once more. The hulking Death Eater had returned to his place. A cold chill shook my thin frame.

“I fear I am … poor company.” My voice quivered with the aftershocks. This was different than the hallucinations I had experienced within my childhood home. These were visions of what might have been, or perhaps could yet still be. “Speak your piece, Lord Voldemort, and have done with it.”

He pushed back his hood and for a bare second I saw images layered one over the other. One was of Voldemort as he stood before me now, and the other was of what he might yet look like standing in triumph.

“I offer you the same opportunity as I did your sweet sister, Caitlin. Join me, my dear Unspeakable, and in exchange for swearing undying loyalty to me, I will graciously allow you live. You will stand at my side and use your gift of walking through time at my behest.”

My shoulders shuddered. I tried to suppress it, but laughter bubbled up through my throat. It was incongruous, but I could not help it from spilling out. His proposition was worthless. I could no longer use my power to Shift through time. It was burned out of me when I averted the prophecies and traveled hours beyond what I should have been capable of. All that remained was an unending plague of visions I could not control.

Voldemort pulled himself up in indignation. “You dare laugh at me, at the Heir of Slytherin?” He hissed in fury and then with mercurial swiftness, took control of his volatile emotions once more. “I ask myself, perhaps you will not find your sister’s choice as amusing.” He raised a hand and his Death Eaters drew away.

The laughter died in my mouth. I felt a brush against my mind, like nails drawn against the closed door. Behind Voldemort a shadow entered the garden. It jerked erratically, twitching forward in a spasm of irregular motion. Voldemort’s smile was blood-chilling. He embraced the figure with one arm like a loving parent and drew it into the light.

It was my sister Caitlin, or what was left of her. One eye rolled in its socket, but where the other should have been was darkness. Her mouth was stained and her clothing was crusted in filth. She wore the dress I had bought for her on our last birthday. Her fingers were curled into claws and caught in their grasp was a bouquet of black lilies. The fragrance of the lilies could not disguise the stench of death and corruption that wafted from my sister.

My heart shattered to see her. This was an Inferius glimpsed in the horror that was lost in a bubble of time. It was the woman in the cracked mirror. Death wore my face as it shuffled towards me in a herky-jerky motion.

I had tried to save Caitlin before the prophecies had come to light. She had called to me in my mind when the Death Eaters had appeared. I Shifted, threw myself back in time an hour and Apparated to Caitlin’s side. By the time the Death Eaters arrived, Caitlin was hidden away safe in another location. Less than a day had passed when it happened again. Voldemort had been persistent in his quest to obtain a true Seer. Once more I used my affinity for time to rescue her. The third instance I was unable to save Caitlin. They took her silently in the dead of night. By the time I learned of it, more than three days had passed. I could not have saved her; no one could have by then.

“I’m sorry, Caitlin. I’m so sorry.” My voice cracked as I apologized for being unable to prevent her appalling fate. Caitlin stopped an arm’s length from me. She opened her mouth and I saw the remains of her tongue wiggle behind foul teeth.

Voldemort swept close to Caitlin, but his slitted eyes were only for me. “I offer you one last chance, Aislinn Walker. Serve me alive willingly … or serve me in death as an Inferius.”

The Death Eater I knew to be Bellatrix chuckled malevolently. The others joined in. Laughter echoed in the garden of death, sawing across my strung-out nerves. Voldemort stepped back amongst his followers.

I could not bear to look at Caitlin, but I could not turn away. She had chosen death to escape Voldemort, yet still he had bound her to his service. I had been unable to save her when it meant the most. However, it was in my power to do so now. I could remove her remains from his command while taking myself out of his grasp forever. One tiny spell was all that was needed, the one that was taught to all Unspeakables who possessed the necessary skill.

Death was the only balm that could heal my wounds. It would be a blessed peace from the nightmarish memories and haunting visions.

I opened my arms and swiftly stepped forward to hold my sister close. She dropped the black lilies and they scattered to the ground at our feet. Caitlin reared her head back and opened wide that fearsome mouth. Before anyone could react, I cast the spell that would bring salvation to us both.

_“Me interficere!”_

A blossom of fire opened within my chest. It burned through my flesh in a brilliant flash of purple light. Caitlin struggled in my fiery embrace, but I clung on. Flames raced down our locked figures. The reek of burning flesh and hair filled the air. I screamed in agony and cried in relief.

In the sky above, the Dark Mark wavered and the starry heavens dimmed before my eyes. A rippling veil framed by a stone arch hung tantalizingly to the west, just beyond my reach. From behind it glowed a wondrous light. I ached to touch it, to pass through the shimmering curtain and let it quench the flames that seared my flesh black.

Then the curtain parted and Caitlin peered out. She was radiant and whole, an angel untouched by corruption.

“Aislinn,” she breathed in my mind, full of love, of light. “Come home with me.”

Caitlin held out a hand that I gratefully seized hold of. Into the sky she lifted me. I gazed down and impassively observed the two blazing bodies fused together and rapidly burning to ash among the black lilies. The lush, dark petals gleamed in the eerie purple wizard flames. Figures in robes milled about in confusion, but I found the scene no longer held significance for me.

I turned back to my dear sister, Caitlin. Hand-in-hand we flew to the west, to the Veil and into the everlasting light.

**~ Finite ~**

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Opening chapter quote from the motion picture The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, screenplay adaptation by Peter Jackson and Fran Walsh, based on the novel of the same name by J.R.R. Tolkien.
> 
> Chapter title from “Into the West”, The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King motion picture soundtrack, performed by Annie Lennox and written by Fran Walsh
> 
> Written to the music of:  
> “Alessa’s Harmony”, Silent Hell, from the Silent Hill motion picture, by Stanton Shows
> 
> “Into the West”, The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King motion picture soundtrack, performed by Annie Lennox and written by Fran Walsh
> 
> Thanks goes out to M_C_Crocker and Rumplestilskin, for reading the questionably queasy bits; nott theodore, for help with British terms for pajamas; and Gail Welin, for assistance with French titles and translations.


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